The Long Road Home Book II: The Summit of Pisgah
by Uberscribbler
Summary: The survivors of the Twelve Colonies come to a new star system, only to find their way home has already been prepared.  The event of Book I from the Colonial's perspective.  NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Standard Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to a blessed thing when it comes to the principle characters or story. I'm just borrowing the lot of them for a bit for fun and games, not material profit. I also owe an enormous (_Mercury-class _Battlestar sized) thanks to my beta reader Pam Barker, who has given me the needed kick in the pants to give this my all from the start, and to The Sidhe, who provided a couple plot points. Thanks also to everyone who has written in so far; you're what keeps this story going! Remember, tho': More Feedback More Fanfic!

For reasons that will quickly become obvious, we're switching things around this time.

Dialogue in Colonial Standard is not bolded.

**Dialogue in English ****is**** bolded.**

_Dialogue over the wireless is always in italics. _

* * *

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA**

**THE LONG ROAD HOME**

**Book II: The Summit of ****Pisgah**

* * *

The following takes place concurrently with the events in Book I

* * *

_After the battle in the Nebula, after those basestars that survived jumped away and the Fleet was safe once more, only then did the Four meet again._

_The vow they arrived at was simple yet went unspoken: protect humanity, protect the Fleet, protect each other, and protect themselves. In that order and without exception._

_For__ a short time, they accomplished precisely this. They watched each other as cautiously as they attended to any external threat; each dreading the day they knew would come when their caution would no longer suffice. _

* * *

**Colonial Basestar **_**Nemesis**_

**378 Standard days since commissioning**

**731 Standard days since last Cylon contact**

**Pilot's Briefing (in progress)**

The star system appeared on the projection screen as nothing but a series of circles in a perfectly aligned orbit about another circle. It was apparently the best that could be managed with the still un-repaired damage throughout the ship. The six pilots and ECOs didn't appear to mind; most of them had received their wings and qualifications within just the past few days and none of them really had cause to complain.

Their CAG stepped up to the lectern and extended an old-fashioned pointer towards the screen. "This is our best representation of the star system we're approaching. Approximately seven planets of varying sizes, with a handful of planetoids at its outer edges and closer to it star. Our mission is to scout the system out as best we can before the rest of the Fleet jumps in."

One of the pilots raised his hand. It was an Arean native Connor Pohl, call sign Rockjaw, and the only one present who had been in the cockpit for more than a week. "Ma'am?" The CAG nodded for him to continue. "Are we all jumping in together, and where's our insertion point?"

"Good questions," the CAG nodded in a rare show of approval. "First, you will indeed all be jumping in together. Second, your insertion point will be here." She turned back and pointed to the largest planet in the group. "You will jump in ten thousand kilometers over this planet. Remote sensors show it is a gas giant, so entering at that point shouldn't cause you any problems."

"Provided there's nothing else there," one of the younger pilots put in quietly. The CAG couldn't tell who made the comment, although she had a very good idea, and didn't really have the energy to respond to it.

She continued instead saying, "Raptor 472, crewed by Rockjaw and Torch, will survey the region immediately around the gas giant and chart every moon and bit of rock orbiting it. We need as detailed cartography as possible for when the rest of the Fleet makes the jump in.

"Raptor 110 will be crewed by Stopwatch and Digger. Your job will be to maintain position and act as DEW for the others.

"Finally, Raptor 225 will be crewed by Javelin and Jumper. You two are to carry out an initial survey of the asteroid belt we've detected between the gas giant and the fourth planet of the system. I don't need to tell you all how thin our supplies are getting, hence our sending out just three Raptors here."

"What's our clock, Ma'am?" asked ECO Ensign Marion Allyn, call sign Digger.

The screen went dark and the room's lights snapped back on. Several of the assembled squinted for a few beats as their eyes adjusted. The CAG of course wasn't affected in the slightest. She raked her subordinates with a single clear brown eye and stated, "The Admiral has given us 24 hours to get this data together so he can make a proper decision. This is what you've trained for, Rooks." She always referred to newly commissioned pilots as Rooks; if only distinguish them from the nuggets the _Nemesis_ was saddled with.

Captain Sharon Agathon softened her tone and continued, saying, "God and Lords willing this will be a simple run for you, but I won't lie and promise you it will be. We haven't seen nor heard from the Cylons in nearly two years, but that's no guarantee of anything. You're going to the eyes of the Fleet here."

Years later, she would remember those words and wonder at their origin. Even as a newly loomed child of God, she'd never been one for inspirational soliloquies.

Jumper chose that moment to raise his hand. "CAG?"

"Go."

"If we encounter any toasters, what're our orders?"

"Jump back here and alert CIC, in that order." She fixed all six of them with the death's glare. "No heroics out there, Rooks. Your job is to fly in and see what the terrain is, _nothing_ else. Any other questions?" There were none. "Launch prep is in ten minutes. Get moving."

The six couldn't quit the room fast enough.

* * *

_**Nemesis **_**CIC**

**Five hours into scouting mission**

"Captain Agathon?" Athena managed not to jump at Tigh's voice sounding off unexpectedly behind her. She instead gave him cool but respectful nod over her shoulder and returned her attention to the DRADIS displays.

"Commander Tigh," she acknowledged as she turned her attention back to the DRADIS displays.

"I believe your shift ended three hours ago?"

"Yes, Sir. I switched with the XO so I could monitor the Raptors."

Tigh made a quiet, disapproving sound. "You've been on duty for what? Two days now?"

"A day and a half, Sir."

"And how does your girl feel about that?"

"Hera understands..."

"I wasn't referring to the Cadet, Captain," Tigh corrected her in a slightly frosty tone. It was equal parts reproach and teasing. This was Tigh's ship, after all, and so it was his job to know what was happening at all times.

Sharon kept herself from flinching, though only barely. "I don't think that's a major concern right now, Sir."

"Do I have to call Ishnay and confirm that?"

"No, Sir," Athena stated emphatically. A couple of the bridge crew looked up at her statement, though they quickly looked back to their own business at Tigh's withering glare.

The ship's CO leaned closer to his CAG and murmured, "Don't think I won't ground you if I hear otherwise, Captain."

Athena wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement, and so kept her mouth firmly shut. Instead, she gave her CO a firm nod and concentrated to the feed coming through DRADIS, taking careful note of the position of each of her pilots. Raptor 225 was skimming the asteroid field as directed, while Raptor 472 was moving in a wide arc through the gas giant's airspace. Raptor 110 was holding position at the apex of all this, while keeping both its fellows in sight via DRADIS and acting as watchdog for both.

She and Helo had agreed a six-hour window would provide the Rooks enough time to do their assigned jobs. This meant another hour of anxious boredom watching grunt work being done and all the while wishing she was out there with them.

The Raiders were on Condition One anyway and could be fast-launched if needed. Athena sometimes wondered how Costanza and the others who had come over from _Galactica_ took being on alert all the time. True, they weren't flying their planes, as such, but the constant anticipation for Action Stations couldn't have been easy on them.

Tigh was still standing at her shoulder, silent as a cold Centurion. Sharon sometimes wondered at the changes in the man over the last two years; on more than one occasion she had joked with Helo how he might be one of the final three. It was the sort of joke that never stopped being funny, if only because it was too ridiculous _not_ to laugh at it.

"Anything else, Sir?" she asked him.

"Any luck on making sense of that noise we've been picking up?"

The question caught Athena short. "No. No, Sir. Nothing intelligible. At least not that I'm aware of."

"Hmm," was Tigh's only response. A moment later he quietly added, "Get yourself to Life Station, Captain. Have Ishnay check you out again, and then retire for the day."

"Sir?"

"Did I mumble, Captain? Get out of here and don't let me see you outside of your quarters for then next twenty hours. The same goes for my XO. You two play house or whatever it is you two do at home."

"Sir, I am still able to..." Her argument was cut short by a harsh glare from the CO's remaining eye.

His response was still quiet and calm, and all the harsher for it. "These people around us can do their jobs just as well _without_ you staring over all their shoulders. Right now, I don't need a potentially hormonal CAG making them any more nervous than they already are. So get the hell out of my CIC before I call in Rickard's Marines and have you escorted off, got it?"

"Understood, Sir," Athena nodded and gave him a parade-ground salute. She added in a slightly raised voice, "If there's nothing else, I'll be in my office if you require me, _Sir_."

Tigh returned the salute with his customary scowl and a dismissive nod. He didn't watch her depart confident she would do as directed. He personally had no idea why he had suddenly gotten so frakking protective of his CAG and her family. He could barely stand to be around their little girl as it was. He made sure to avoid being in that position in the first place.

It was one of the many private vows he had made to himself after being assigned command of the _Nemesis_; to never ever let himself be alone with Hera. Bad enough two of the four of them had been exposed and were now dead. If the rumors about that skinjob Caprica's dreams were for real, _Nemesis_ was the absolute last place that child should be.

There was nothing for it though. He couldn't have turned down command even if he'd wanted to, not when there were really no other candidates the Old Man could trust with it. Apollo refusing to re-up was bad enough, but his continually insisting he'd seen a ghost in the Ionian Nebula had everyone wondering if the boy hadn't cracked somehow. Baltar managing to vanish completely after his trial was bad enough. But Apollo possibly losing it as well? It was a wonder Roslin and the Old Man had been able to hold things together as long as they had.

Tigh frequently found himself wondering what would have happened if Bill had been just a hair slower coming through for him and getting his commission back. Would he have actually managed to blow his brains out in that dive on Caprica? Would _he_ have...come back somehow?

He sighed as he often did of late and put away such thoughts. _My name is Saul Tigh and I am a Commander in the Fleet of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. This is who I choose to be._ **He repeated this mantra** to himself when such thoughts intruded.

Feeling himself centered and restored, Tigh turned his attention back to the DRADIS feed. His brow furrowed as he noted a small, almost invisible signal tracking on from Raptor 110's feed. He was about to pickup the wireless handset when Rockjaw's voice came over the comms.

"_Nemesis, this is Stopwatch..."_

Tigh quickly picked up the handset and stated "Stopwatch, this is _Nemesis _Actual. What am I seeing?"

"_It, uh, looks like two bogeys, Actual. Flying in a standard patrol pairing."_

"Can you ID them?"

"_Negative. They're too far away for visual. We aren't reading any active scannings..."_

"Spool up your engines and jump back here. I'm ordering mission abort."

"_Copy that. Spooling engines for return jump."_

Tigh didn't take his eyes off the main display as he barked out "Put me on general frequency for the other Raptors." He counted to five then spoken into his handset again. "This is _Nemesis_ Actual. I am ordering mission abort. Repeat: I am ordering mission abort. Jump back to _Nemesis _now!" He hoped his voice didn't carry even a hint of the hysteria he felt right then.

Lowering the handset, he turned to the too-young-for-her-uniform comms specialist. "Have the XO and CAG meet me in Conference Alpha. I don't care what they're doing to each other. Get them up here now!"

"Aye-aye, Sir," the girl saluted set about her task. The rest of the bridge crew looked distinctly unsettled by their Commander's sudden shift in both tone and stance. Saul Tigh inarguably had his explosive moments, but to see him...not panicked, perhaps, but definitely nowhere near calm...

Tigh realized what a sight he must have seemed right then, and so took several calming breaths before giving his crew his patented Tigh-Glare. He focused on Kelly, who was now Senior Officer of the Watch. "Captain Kelly, you have the Bridge. Maintain position and inform _Galactica_ I've aborted the scouting mission. Full report will follow within the hour. And Kelly?"

"Sir?"

"As soon as Raptor 110 lands, have Stopwatch bring his flight tape to Conference Alpha for review."

"Aye, Sir."

Tigh turned without acknowledging Kelly's salute, mind already jumping through the possibilities. The Old Man of course would immediately want to know why he'd unilaterally terminated a simple sneak-and-peek over a five**-**second DRADIS contact. Tigh would chalk it up to simple caution, noting Fleet doctrine on the books called for reconnaissance-in-force in new systems.

Despite knowing as well as anyone that Raiders didn't normally fly in pairs or in fixed patrol patterns, he actually found himself privately hoping it _was_ the Cylons. He and his people knew how to deal with the toasters. The Colonial Fleet, as far as he knew, had never considered what would go into a 'First Contact' with another star-faring species from outside the Colonies beyond a few academic exercises. Tigh knew himself well enough to know he was the absolute last Colonial officer who should be called upon to attempt such a thing.

Well, second-to-last maybe. The late Captain Kara Thrace was the sort of person you sent in to start interstellar wars, not offer a friendly and non-threatening "Hello" to an alien people.

Commander Saul Tigh quickly squashed any further thought about his one-time personal headache and returned all his attention to the present. He and his people needed to come up with a plan to deal with this newest development.

If it was the toasters, they were using new tactics, which meant they'd adopted entirely new doctrine. He and his pilots needed to adapt accordingly.

And if it wasn't the toasters...

Tigh didn't have a clue, and thanked whatever deity might be listening there was still a Chain of Command he answered to.

These happy thoughts buoyed his spirits enough his XO and CAG found him with a genuine grin on his face when they walked into Conference Alpha a few minutes later.

* * *

_In the weeks that followed the encounter in the Nebula, meeting between the four of them were infrequent. The eldest remained at his post, high in the chain of command aboard the Battlestar. The next eldest and the younger who trained to be a pilot watched him as carefully as they watched their own work. _

_But their caution paled in comparison to that which the eldest himself practiced, his mind suddenly alert and alive as a clear DRADIS display, seeing everything around him and sensing still more. So cleared, his mind could foresee possibilities previously missed, allowing his advice and service to become that much sharper. Had he always been this way, he wondered, deliberately dulling himself with drink so he would be of little use to anyone?_

_Had he always known what he was? _

_The next eldest took to training up his wife and every Knuckledragger who might listen and learn how to repair and rebuild vehicles and systems. He worked desperately to keep tensions cool between those who labored to keep the Fleet moving and those who defended it, never failing to strike a delicate deal that neither side would dare break. He knew himself a good taskmaster and organizer. But peacemaker? How was it he had never seen this in himself before? _

_The younger man gave his training the same tight focused attention he once gave making the winning score on a Pyramid Court. Despite himself, he found himself perceiving small errors and weaknesses in the tactics and doctrines employed by those he now served with. This had always been his gift, allowing him to lead his Buccaneers to victory time and again. Why had he not noticed it before now? _

_The youngest of them, who stood beside their President, was seen less often among them as she found herself in the same position as the eldest and the next eldest. She kept their President carefully apprised of all things, even those that she did not immediately know but could sense coming. Her instincts there never proved wrong. She had even to negotiate as if she were duly empowered by the whole of the Quorum of Twelve, who were often as not were her adversaries. _

_In her remembered youth, she had shown aptitude for neither organization nor negotiation. Were these abilities only coming to the fore now at some...outside directive, or had she always been thus._

_Despite their vows, none of the four ever spoke of these new discoveries of themselves to each other. They felt no urge to do so, as if privately satisfied their 'discovery' of their presumed origins meant they were now capable of doing anything. In the throes of fleshly passion the youngest of them so often indulged in, they spoke nothing of themselves, only events outside._

* * *

An hour after he'd given the abort order, Tigh and his senior officers were debating their next move. _Galactica_ Actual was likewise present, albeit over the wireless speakers.

"_So give me options, Nemesis," _the Old Man's voice asked with its usual rough calm.

Athena was the first to speak. She was both CAG and Ops officer, and was the one who should address tactical issues. "Having reviewed the flight tapes from Raptor 110 as well as interviewed both the pilot and ECO, I'm afraid I can't offer any immediate insights. There simply isn't enough data to confidently project either the configuration or abilities of the bogeys."

"_Stopwatch stated they were flying in 'patrol formation', correct?"_

"Yes, Sir. The 20-second contact he recorded showed these bogeys flying in a paired formation that closely resembles the formation our Vipers and Raiders fly CAP in. Though I should mention that if I'm calculating vectors correctly, these two were just thirty centras apart, not fifty as our own doctrine dictates."

"_Why the uncertainty there, Captain?"_

"Twenty seconds of DRADIS data from forty-five degrees off the elliptic is not a lot to go on, Sir. And without any kind of visual data on the configuration of the targets themselves...well, I'm pretty much guessing here."

"_Understood. Commander?"_

"Sir?" Tigh replied.

"_Any recommendations at this time?"_

"Raptor 225 did pick up traces of Tyllium and other heavy elements we can use in fabrication. In addition, the gas giant has enough large planetoids we can get some use from. I'm not ready to recommend we pull up stakes and pass this system by."

"_What about the other planets?"_

"Haven't had a chance to check them out yet. The second largest shows another, thicker debris ring that likely has other stuff we mine and use. I should also mention we're still trying to get a handle on all that white noise that's been disrupting the wireless networks."

"_I was wondering about that, Nemesis. Have you encountered any further disruption in communication?"_

Tigh looked over at Helo, who gave a short shake of his head. "Nothing serious, _Galactica. _It's more an annoyance right now."

"_Understood. We're getting it here as well. And I agree with you we can't afford to bypass the system entirely."_

"By the same token," Tigh unexpectedly cut in "I can't help feeling a tad nervous at the possibility of making contact with an unknown party."

"_Agreed. We can't go rushing in blind here."_

Athena stepped forward and asked "Sirs, if I may?"

"_Athena?"_ Tigh gave her a quick nod, as if he already knew what she was about to propose.

"Give the...ambiguity we're working within, I'd like to propose we perform a full recon-in-force. A force of six Raptors and ten Raiders, breaking into two divisions of three and five respectively to both continue mapping and survey of our proposed entrance site. If anyone comes calling, we let them make the first move."

"And if the callers don't speak Colonial Standard, Captain?" Tigh prompted.

"That's why I propose three Raptors, Sir. One for astro-navigational mapping, one for survey of surrounding bodies for operational retrieval and use, and one to act as DEW and signals intercept."

"_And the ten Raiders?"_

"Perimeter security, Sir," Athena answered promptly. "Rules of Engagement would be Alert Four." Alert Four was just one step down from peacetime contact, and boiled down to 'Do not fire unless fired upon, do not make the first move, and leave the talking to the grown-ups.' Had the Cylons ever attempted to re-establish formal contact with the Colonies instead of just bombing them into dust, Alert Four would have been protocols employed.

A light static filled the room as _Galactica _Actual thought it over. Tigh kept his own peace and considered his options. Athena's plan had merit, but would risk a sizable chunk of their Air Wing, many of whom were only barely familiar with their hardware and vehicles. The Old Man knew this as well, and Tigh was not disappointed in the Admiral's next words.

"_Recommendation denied, Captain. Too many planes committed to something that can be too easily misinterpreted. Besides, it's too large a chunk of our available pilots. Too many moving pieces and too much could go wrong."_

"Understood, Sir." Athena voice was flat, but Tigh and Helo both caught the flash of relief in her eyes.

"_Other recommendations?"_

"Just that we continue with the original mission parameters, Sir. But this time send four Raptors, with two acting as DEW and the others continuing the asteroid survey."

"_We have sufficient navigational data for the Fleet to jump in?"_

"Yes, Sir," Tigh responded.

"_Okay,"_ the Admiral agreed after a few beats. _"But make sure ROE at Alert Four. And the Raptors are to jump if they even think they're in danger."_

"Understood, Actual," Tigh nodded, mirrored by his XO and CAG.

"_Galactica clear."_ The hiss of static followed the Old Man's words, prompting Helo to cut the wireless off.The three of them stood there for a few moments afterwards.

"Captain?"

"Commander?"

"What's your gut telling you?" This both surprised and put both Agathons immediately on guard. Tigh had hardened in his role as CO, often to the point where he'd be quoting passages from the old manuals like scripture and demanding the crew follow them to the letter. It was unheard of him to ask any of his crew's feelings on anything.

"Seriously, Sir?" Athena delayed for just a moment.

"Seriously, Captain."

"I don't think it's the Cylons. My experience with Raiders is that they're solitary and too prone to, well, rashness. They only work well in a swarm because their aggressiveness means they'll fight harder to survive and know glory. But a pair of them? They'd be too likely to get distracted trying to out-fly or out-fight each other to concentrate on whatever their mission is."

Tigh went quiet, considering this, knowing intuitively that she was right. He nodded and said "Okay, fine. Have a mission plan drawn up and to me within two hours. After that, I don't want to see either of you unless called for in the next twelve hours." He gave them his best glare. "Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the mismatched pair echoed each other. They saluted as one, turned as one, and quit the room as one.

Saul Tigh lingered behind and allowed himself a small glimmer of pride over them. Good officers, the pair of them. He could only hope Helo would be up to the task of CO when it was dropped on him in coming days.

"Aw, frak it," Tigh muttered to himself, irritated his thoughts were drifting in that direction again. He marched himself out of the room to get a mug of that black sludge that served as coffee, entirely serious about standing the watch for the next twelve hours.

"What could happen all the way out here?" the CO wondered aloud, knowing how ridiculous the sentiment was.

* * *

_**Nemesis **_**CIC**

**Six hours and six minutes into second scouting/survey mission**

Athena and Helo had both taken his orders to heart and reportedly hadn't left their quarters since Raptor 295 reported joining 225 in skimming the asteroids. Tigh found this both encouraging and unfortunate; encouraging in that it meant they were following his orders to the letter...and unfortunate for the same reasons as it left him in charge for the time being.

He watched the DRADIS displays carefully, paying closer attention to those from Raptors 110 and 472. He reasoned it was more likely they rather than either 295 or 225 would make any contact given their positioning and mission profile.

Captain Kelly was standing watch with him again, looking out of place as usual and trying to compensate for it by drifting all over the Bridge. Tigh tolerated this little quirk as it kept the less-than-artful officer from affecting the entire Bridge with his visible nerves. It helped familiarize him with many of the ad hoc systems they'd had to cobble together for the _Nemesis_. Many of the crew had been intimately involved in said cobbling and could do their jobs every bit as well as any of the original crew aboard the _Galactica._

The various crewmembers on duty right then were used to him wandering around and so treated him as the vague distraction he was. If nothing else, he gave them something to concentrate against and make damned sure they knew their jobs well enough so an idiot like Kelly couldn't find fault with them. Tigh had, on a few occasions, mentioned this to the Old Man, who in turn looked on a modest bit of professional rivalry between ship's crews as a good thing. Their people had little enough to take pride in any more, so anything that might sharpen their blunt edges was welcome. Tigh himself wasn't so sure, but couldn't find fault in the logic.

Something caught his eye on 225's display, a vague sensor echo that had the hairs on his neck suddenly bristling. He was just picking up the wireless handset when Javelin's hushed, surprised voice came over the speakers. _"Nemesis, Javelin. Have sighted two, repeat, two bogeys. Tracking at my eleven at twenty-five metras per second. Repeating: two bogeys on my eleven flying in Colonial standard patrol formation at..."_

Tigh quickly cut in. "Javelin, _Nemesis _Actual. Have you been sighted?"

"_Negative, Actual. I'm roughly five degrees east to their negative apex. They flew right over me..."_

"Distance."

"_Calculate...one hundred ten metras between us..."_

"Can you provide a visual from your current shadow?"

"_Linking in the external cams now, Actual. Feed should be coming through... now... please confirm feed..."_

"Feed is coming through intact, Javelin. Maintain visual at current distance and stand-by." Tigh nodded to the youngster acting as Comms Specialist, who worked his usual magic clarifying the shaky images Jumper was transmitting.

Kelly was standing over the lad's shoulder and muttered "What in Hades'?" That was one of the few things that seriously annoyed Tigh about the man, his seeming pathological inability to actually swear like an ordinary man. He was forever tossing out the names of one of the Twelve Lords for something or other. What couldn't he just say 'Frak' like the rest of them?

His annoyance aside, Tigh quickly understood what caught Kelly up short, as Jumper's transmission was showing what could easily be mistaken for...two Colonial Mark VII Vipers. They were slightly slimmer and their lower wings a bit less elegant in shape, but the similarities were unmistakable.

Tigh felt his blood run cold. His grip on his handset tightened so hard his knuckles went white. It was only a few short minutes as he fought to remember to breathe, in that time Kelly had drifted back to his side and unintentionally shook him from his shock.

"This...this can't be for real, Sir," he stated just loud enough for Tigh's ears alone.

"Oh, it's real, Captain," Tigh heard himself stating with equal certainty. How his voice was so calm and steady he'd never know, never mind where his sudden conviction originated. "Oh, frak...!"

Just then, one of the pair executed a smooth mid-flight flip, its pointed nose now bearing directly down on the transmitting Raptor. Tigh shook off the rest of his paralysis and barked into his handset "Javelin, get your ass out of there now! Spool up and execute emergency jump!"

"_Understood, Actual. Jump coordinates calculating...executing full burn for evasion...what the...?"_

"Dammit, Javelin. Get yourself..." Tigh's next words were lost as another voice broke in over the comms, overriding everything else.

"_Colonial Raptor, this is Colonel Kara Thrace, call sign Starbuck... formerly of the Battlestar _Galactica_. Colonial ID..."_

Tigh didn't hear the rest, at least not consciously. The name alone echoed in his mind in a loop as it wrestled with the impossible. _"Kara Thrace...call sign Starbuck..." _That was all he could hear, even after Javelin reported safely jumping back to _Nemesis_.

Kelly had apparently recovered quicker as he asked his CO "Do we abort the other Raptors, Commander? _Sir_?"

"Eh? What?"

"Do we recall the others?"

"Eh? Uh, yes. Yes, dammit." Tigh spun on his heel and barked over to Comms. "Recall all Raptors immediately. I want them back and landed in the next three minutes. Navigation, do you have Javelin's last coordinates?"

"Aye, Sir."

"Plot us a jump five kilotras above that space."

"Sir?"

"You have trouble hearing me, mister? I want us inside that piece of space in the next five minutes."

"Uh...understood, Commander. Calculating vectors now."

Tigh nodded grimly and turned to Kelly. "Make sure our birds are landed and secure by the time we jump, Captain. See to it."

"Yes, Sir. Shall I put the ship on Condition One?"

"Damn right. I want Costanza and his wing ready to launch as soon as we have this...whoever this is in sight."

"Understood."

"And get Helo and Athena up here."

Kelly had a handset ready and was punching in the proper internal codes. "Already doing it, Commander."

Tigh nodded again and turned back to the DRADIS displays, only barely noticing the sudden appearance of the remaining Raptors as they returned to the Basestar. All his conscious awareness was taken up by that voice over the wireless just moments ago.

"_This is Colonel Kara Thrace, call sign Starbuck..."_

If this turned out to be some kind of sick joke, he promised himself he would personally strangle the life out of whoever dreamed it up...

"Raptors all landed, Sir," Kelly suddenly reported. "Alert Wing is on deck and waiting."

"Navigation?" Tigh barked without turning around.

"Jump coordinates in and ready, Sir."

"Execute jump." Reality lurched half a degrees one way, then the other as the Basestar leapt between physical spaces. Within seconds, DRADIS picked up their new targets, sitting in space and well away from any a danger of collision with them. The instant they were sighted, both contacts flipped about laterally and began what presumably was meant to be evasive action.

Tigh ordered, "Launch Alert Wing. Defensive fire only! I want those two corralled, preferably without a single scratch to them!"

"_Acknowledged, Actual," _Captain Brendan Costanza, call sign Hotdog, replied over wireless. _"Shall we attempt to initiate wireless contact, Actual?"_

"Attempt as soon as you have them corralled, Hotdog."

"_Understood. Taking up blockade positions now."_ DRADIS displayed no details beyond the positions of the contacts and the Raider of the Alert Wing. Tigh needed none to see it all playing out clearly in his head: Costanza and his wing breaking out into two divisions of three, nimbly positioning themselves around their targets, which likely had no idea what to make of the vicious-looking spacecraft now surrounding them.

Helo and Athena entered the Bridge just as Hotdog opened the same channel as Javelin had been transmitting on and hailed the bogeys. "_Attention unknown spacecraft. We are a reconnaissance force from..."_

"Sir?" Helo asked, pulling Tigh's attention away from Costanza's transmission.

"We got a visual on our bogeys, which happen to look like Vipers," Tigh quickly explained. "They made a run at Javelin, but she managed to jump away. I've taken us into their envelope for a closer look-see."

"Whu...why?" Athena sputtered, staring at him in shock.

The next words heard over the wireless were all the answer she needed.

"_Hotdog, is that you!"_

Tigh watched with a grim satisfaction as the color drained from the faces of both his XO and CAG as they listened to Costanza and...the other party...exchange dull barbs. His eye not leaving either of them, he calmly picked up the handset from the planning table and raised it to his lips.

"I am addressing the...person...claiming to Captain Kara Thrace. You _will_ identify yourself to my satisfaction or I _will_ blow you out of the frakking sky for soiling the memory of an officer I knew...and respected!"

The familiar laugh the answered this demand was chilling…and erased all doubts for those few who recognized it.

TBC...

* * *

**Glossary -**

Centra: Colonial measurement of distance, equivalent to (roughly) 9.85 meters

DEW: "Distant Early Warning", usually performed by a Raptor scout craft holding a position forward of or behind the Fleet and carrying out passive scans of the surrounding space.

Kilotra: Colonial measurement of distance, equivalent to (roughly) 1.15 kilometers

Loomed: reference to Cylon reproductive technique of human-form models; new copies of human-form models being 'woven' together from base genetic materials.

Metra: Colonial measurement of distance, equivalent to (roughly) 1 meter.

ROE: "Rules of Engagement", which set the parameters for offensive or defensive actions a unit may undertake during a military mission.


	2. Chapter 2

**Standard Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to a blessed thing when it comes to the principle characters or story. I'm just borrowing the lot of them for a bit for fun and games, not material profit. I also owe an enormous (_Mercury-class _Battlestar sized) thanks to my beta reader Pam Barker, who has given me the needed kick in the pants to give this my all from the start, and to The Sidhe, who provided a couple plot points. Thanks also to everyone who has written in so far; you're what keeps this story going! Remember, tho': More Feedback More Fanfic!

For reasons that will quickly become obvious, we're switching things around this time.

Dialogue in Colonial Standard is not bolded.

**Dialogue in English ****is**** bolded.**

_Dialogue over the wireless is always in italics. _

**That all said, back to work…**

**

* * *

**

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA**

**THE LONG ROAD HOME**

**Book II: The Summit of ****Pisgah**

* * *

The following takes place concurrently with the events in Book I

* * *

The only response to Tigh's threat, which everyone who heard it knew was no threat at all…was a short laugh. It was chilling whether it was recognized or not; those few who did know it felt colder still, as it erased any doubts as to who was speaking. 

"_Since when did you ever 'respect' me, __Colonel__? When you threw the card table at me after I slapped down full colors and showed everyone what a lousy Triad player you were…or…or when you kicked me out of a chair and told me I was, quote, 'a malcontent and a cancer and you won't have me on your ship' unquote?!"_

"You bitch!" Tigh heard himself growl before he could think otherwise. "You know I didn't say that…"

The voice over the wireless however was just getting started. _"In fact, I want confirmation it's really you, __Sir.__ Like I'm going to believe the Old Man would put __you__ in charge of anything more important than a…a frakkin' Triad game."_

"Is it really you?"It was a question and whisper and prayer all in one.

"_If you don't believe me, go ahead and tell Costanza and others to shoot me down right now. I'll fly back over the River Styx itself and show you…"_

"Is it you?!" Tigh actually winced as he shouted this, raw desperation he'd only heard once before.

The voice hesitated, then all but whispered, _"__It's me, Sir. It's really me."_ There was a paused, then, _"Stand by, _Nemesis_ Actual."_

Specialist Eichya looked up and called out "Sirs? I'm reading a spike in transmissions along lower wireless bands."

Tigh looked up to see half the Bridge crew looking at him with saucer-wide eyes, while the other half were staring at the DRADIS as four new targets zipped into view. Tigh himself didn't spare it more than a glance before turning to Eichya. "Monitor and isolate whatever band they're chatting on. Then start recording everything you can and see if we can translate any of it." He then addressed his XO and CAG, both of whom looked as if they'd swallowed something foul. "Kelly, take the Con. You two, with me."

"Defensive posture, Sir?" Kelly asked after him.

"Place Wing Two on Alert but keep them on-deck."

"Standoff defenses as well?"

"Negative. I don't want to risk a bigger confrontation right now," Tigh replied testily, as if anxious to escape to the Bridge and many eyes dogging him.

This escape was thwarted when the wireless piped to life again. _"_Nemesis_ Actual, Starbuck."_

Tigh scowled and picked up the handset once more, only barely managing to keep his tone even. "Go ahead, Captain._" _Only Helo caught how Kelly frowned at the rank Tigh spoke. Athena looked as if she were simply struggling for breath.

Starbuck's voice gave no sign of acknowledging the slight, instead stating, _"__Be advised I have been ordered by my commanding officer to return to my ship. My squadron is being reinforced and will keep you in sight, with orders to respond with maximum intensity to any provocation. You'd best pull your planes back and keep your powder dry."_

"We'll take it under advisement, Captain." Gods help them all, Tigh sounded as if he meant every word.

"_Continue to monitor this band setting for further communications. Starbuck clear."_

"Acknowledged. _Nemesis _Actual, clear."

All eyes turned to DRADIS displays, watching carefully as one of the targets shifted and headed towards the bottom of the screen, quickly vanishing over the edge. Barely a minute passed before another flight of six bogeys entered sensor range, quickly arranging themselves in a wide matrix-like formation opposite the Colonial Raiders.

Tigh turned towards Conference Alpha, with the Agathons following close behind.

* * *

**Conference Room Alpha**

In some nod to coincidence, both Agathons found themselves standing on the opposite side of the room's table from their commander. Tigh was as still as the legendary Colossus of Areans when the door shut behind them, his balled fists pressing into the unyielding metal of the table itself with his one eye down turned. They said nothing, determined to wait out whatever explosion might be in the offing.

The Commander wasted no time in making his concerns clear. "You both heard...that. All of it." He raised his head just enough that his glare could be seen. "Tell me you have even the smallest shred of doubt about...about who we...who I was talking to just now."

Helo let out an unsteady breath. "I..." He stopped and glanced to his wife, who had gone still. Something unspoken passed between them, something Tigh suddenly felt supremely jealous of. Why hadn't he ever developed anything like that with Ellen, he wondered idly.

Helo cleared his throat forcefully and stated, "We don't have any doubts, Sir. That was Starbuck."

"She threatened to put a hundred rounds of HE through Costanza," Athena affirmed. "Classic Starbuck."

"Which all leads to the obvious question of...well, presuming it really is Starbuck, _how_ in the nine frakking levels of Tartarus's Pit _can_ it _be_ Starbuck?" It was rare for Tigh to invoke the name of any of the twelve Lords, and rarer still for him to speak of either of the Afterworlds. He may have been Gamellion in heritage, but for whatever reason always seemed to avoid invoking any named place or personage from Colonial Faith.

Both his officers took his near-hysteria as simply the natural reaction to events. In truth, it was prompted by a virtual cacophony of nightmarish suspicions and equally horrid realizations. The former naturally revolved about his own question. That it was Kara Thrace who he'd just verbally jousted with was all but beyond question now, but how could it be her?

He'd been on the Bridge when she'd flown into that maelstrom two years ago, had heard Apollo's report of her exploding to pieces there. He'd reviewed both the DRADIS tracks and Apollo's own gun camera a dozen times since, frame-by-frame and second-by-second, but ultimately satisfying himself she neither ejected nor could have possibly survived.

Like the rest of the Fleet, he'd put no stock in Apollo's claims she had appeared to him in the nebula just weeks afterwards. He hadn't dared, more for fear of thinking precisely what he was now than because he'd thought the boy was cracking up.

But now? Only one other species he knew of could...return...from the literal dead. But the possibility, the very thought of Kara Thrace being one of...them...it was almost as insane as the thought that he and Tyrol, or Anders and Foster for that matter...

And if she was the last of the human form Cylons, what did that suggest about her supposed fellow pilots presently watching them? Were they a new model of Raider, or something completely different as his gut was telling him? Could he dare trust those feelings, when they were also telling him so emphatically that Starbuck _wasn't_ a Cylon?

"We can't tell _Galactica_," he said, barely aware he was speaking aloud.

"Sir?" Athena asked, not sounding like she was about to argue, but not totally agreeing either.

"What are we going to tell them, Captain? That we've encountered ships that look a lot like our Vipers, and that one of them happens to be flown by someone claiming to be a deceased pilot?" Tigh shook his head, acknowledging how ridiculous it all sounded. "No, no. We need more, a damned lot more, before we even _think_ of communicating this to the Old Man."

"I agree, Sir," Helo affirmed. "But we have to let them know, well, something."

Tigh gritted his teeth against his natural instinct to argue. Helo was right, and on more levels than he knew. Tyrol needed to know there was something up, if only so he wasn't as blindsided by events as when...

He shook his head clear and ordered, "Major, prepare a message to the Fleet, Admiral's eyes only. Tell him we've encountered...something unusual out here and are assessing the situation. Advise him that if he doesn't hear from us within the next twelve hours, the _Nemesis_ is to be presumed lost and this system avoided. Make sure you get acknowledgment of receipt."

"Yes, Sir. No word about...Starbuck, Sir?"

"Don't even hint. Just say we're investigating those unknown contacts and await further word."

"Understood, Sir."

"Athena? Have Costanza and his wing come home. But I want Wings Two through Four on the deck and waiting."

"Very well, Sir."

Tigh fixed them with a look that was softer than a glare, but carried the weight of death in it. "Do not discuss this with anyone else. If anyone asks, just say we're waiting forproof of who's who. And make it clear I'll personally airlock anyone I catch telling tales. Dismissed."

The two saluted crisply and quit the room. Tigh picked up the nearest handset and paged Eichya. "Alert me as soon as we receive external transmission of any sort," he ordered, not waiting for acknowledgement before setting the handset back down. He bunched his fists once more and pressed them hard into the metal.

After a moment, he raised his eye to the ceiling and hissed "Why me? Why does it have to be _me_ who is...here...for _this_? Wasn't there anyone better?"

The silence offered him no answers.

_T__he Sadeim Nonmen believed in the same Twelve Lords as the rest of the Colonies, but gave special heed to an unnamed thirteenth. In ages gone by they had been shunned for this, and their line had long believed to be extinct._

_But as with all things living, the Sadeim had simply adapted to their environment, their rituals and rites evolving so they were all but invisible. Their sacrifices to the unnamed one occurred rarely and only under precisely determined circumstances; even then, the deaths were carefully cloaked so no suspicion would be raised that their line lived._

_When the holocaust descended upon the Colonies, the last of their line coincidentally had been undertaking pilgrimage upon the _Gamanon Traveller, _and so had been spared. Like a rational mind seeking to make sense of such things, the Sadeim simply took it all a sign of their patron's favor with them. _

_Roslin's call for them to return to Kobol and open the Tomb of Athena further reinforced this conviction among them. That this simple, uninitiated woman from Caprica quoted of the Pythia and fulfilled the prophecies was as sure a sign as any they might have petitioned. _

_Unlike many of their cousins, all the Sadeim had elected to remain aboard ship and eschewed the promises of New Caprica. The name alone was a poison to them, and the oversight of it all by Baltar endeared none of them. The choice proved wise later when the Cylons came in force and the fleet was forced to flee once more._

_But it was the discovery of the Temple of Jupiter upon that unnamed planet that stilled their long-running debate on how to respond to events. Surely their patron demanded some sacrifice in exchange so many signs to them. That the Eye of Jupiter itself opened before them all and directed them the Mists of Ghosts could only be interpreted as a final command by the unnamed one._

_And so plans were laid. The story told by Adama's own son, of sighting and even speaking with one known to be dead, was the final piece of proof. Sacrifice was now demanded, before the teeming dead descended upon their small fleet and extinguished humanity's light forever. _

_They waited their opportunity in the appointed month of Lyria, as decreed in their ways since the days when the Colonies were first founded. It was because of their ancestors that that month had once been known as "The Month of Blood"._

_It was always their way that sacrifices would be made amid celebration. Their unnamed patron was not jealous, despite his supposed exile from the pantheon, and asked his due always be given alongside that given the other Twelve._

* * *

_**Nemesis**_ CIC 

**Fifteen Minutes since Contact**

Tigh had only just returned to the CIC when Starbuck's voice rang out over the Comm speakers. _"_Nemesis_Actual, Starbuck. Repeat: _Nemesis_Actual, this is Colonel Kara Thrace. Please respond." _Tigh felt himself freeze like a Leoni mountain kangarat caught in a car's headlights, but quickly shook it off.

Picking up the handset and signed for Eichya to pipe the incoming transmission directly to him, he replied,_ "Starbuck, _Nemesis _Actual. We read you, Captain."_ Helo and Athena picked up their own handsets and listened attentively.

"_I am aboard my ship and with my commanding officers."_

Another voice then broke in, speaking in passable Standard. _"This is Admiral Theodore Rice of the Terran Defense Fleet. Who am I speaking to?"_

"This is Commander Saul Tigh, commanding officer of the Colonial Battlestar _Nemesis_," Tigh replied sharply. "Is Captain Thrace there with you?"

"_Colonel Thrace is an officer under my command, Sir, and has earned my respect. I expect her to be treated accordingly." _

In his remembered youth, Tigh had flown alongside the late Cornelius Adar during the First Cylon War and had been assigned to the combat carrier under the direct command of Admiral Xandar. Neither man had struck Tigh as especially noteworthy. He'd managed to avoid having to mingle with anyone higher than a fellow Colonel since the war; it would have been inviting disaster to attempt otherwise. Even his respect for Bill Adama was based expressly on the man; not a dram of it was wasted on the Admiral stars he presently wore.

Right then, Saul Tigh found himself almost grinning. Anyone willing to call him down like this was definitely worth knowing. He made his response sound appropriately subdued. "I apologize, Admiral. Cap...Colonel Thrace was formerly under my command, as I'm sure you've been made aware."

"_We are. Enough said there, eh?"_

"Exactly. May I ask what your intentions towards us are?"

"_That would be__our question to you."_

Tigh looked over to his officers, who had been listening in. Neither Agathon looked like they had anything to immediately offer. "Has...Colonel Thrace explained our situation to you?"

Starbuck's voice quickly replied, _"I have provided a general picture to them..."_ She was cut off by Admiral Rice's much sterner tone.

"_She has explained in as much detail as she was able. I give you my word she has at __no__ time been under any manner of duress nor has she compromised your fleet's operational security." _

A meaningful look passed between the three of them at hearing this. Tigh let himself turn this revelation over in his head for a few seconds; these people knew about their situation, but were quick to claim Starbuck hadn't been coerced into giving the information. Starbuck herself had kept everything reasonably professional so far, their earlier exchange notwithstanding. Clearly the Agathons were having similar thoughts.

"You are therefore aware we are refugees seeking safe haven, correct?"

"_We are. May I suggest this is a conversation better conducted face-to-face?" _This brought all of them up short. Clearly these Terrans, whoever or whatever they really were, had put a good bit of thought into how this encounter should play out.

Uncertainty plagued Tigh especially. He could only say, "I was about to suggest precisely that."

"_Acknowledged. Please stand by while I discuss this with my command staff."_

The line went dead again, leaving the three Colonial officers momentarily adrift. "Sir?" Athena offered after a moment. Tigh merely nodded for her to continue. "I...Sir, that sounded like he was reading off a script. Like all this was...or has been...well, planned."

"You think they have protocols in place for non-native contact?"

"It wouldn't surprise me, Sir. Clearly they're on a par with us, technology-wise. Maybe even ahead of us given we can only barely detect their Vipers, and we've no sign of whatever ship they're carried within."

Tigh had come to similar conclusions subconsciously the same instant Javelin had sighted Starbuck's plane and noted how both were little more than sensory ghosts on DRADIS. Athena's points merely made him aware of it. He turned to his XO and asked "You have anything to add?"

"Just that their sensory packages must be better than ours. I mean, Starbuck somehow detected Javelin flying on their five, and Mauryn isn't a Rook pilot. Without seeing their hardware up close for examination?" The former ECO could only shrug. "I'm actually more puzzled at how good their command of our language is, and I'm worried about how fast they were to deny they had Starbuck under any hold or duress."

"Did she sound like she was under and duress?" Tigh asked him pointedly.

"No, Sir. A bit stressed, yeah."

Athena snickered at hearing this. "Gee, I wonder why."

"Enough," Tigh quickly stated. "Chasing our tails speculating isn't going to accomplish anything. Next contact I'm going to insist they come here and talk to us face-to-face, _and_ that Starbuck be part of their group. We absolutely _need_ to see her face and hear her voice before I even consider anything else. Agreed?"

"No argument, Sir," Helo affirmed. Athena nodded in turn.

"All right, then. XO, have our Marine compliment ready at action stations. CAG, same with our Air Group. Until we know just who and what these people are and what their intentions are towards us, I'm _not_ going to assume they have our best interests at heart."

"What about Little Delphi, Sir? What should we tell them?"

"Just that we've got some visitors coming aboard and that they should keep clear." Tigh grimaced. "No sense in stirring up a panic if we can help it."

Specialist Eichya called over. "Commander, incoming message along a dedicated line."

"Send it over," Tigh ordered as he and the Agathons took up their handsets.

* * *

**Outside Landing Bay One**

**One Hour, fifty-six minutes since Contact**

Athena would never say she was the sort to fidget or pace. The often-hectic pace of their lives rarely left her an idle moment. It was a wonder she and Helo could find the time needed to devote any attention to Hera, never mind carve out as much 'family time' as they managed.

But now, waiting at the airlock which would open to Bay One, knowing what was on the other side of and _not_ being able to go and greet it had her nerves afire. She was reduced to concentrating on her breathing just to keep from giving into the urge to pace. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was to infect the brace of Marines assigned to accompany her with her nervousness.

Instead she went back over their last transmission with Starbuck. _"Be advised these people had suffered through a global pandemic fifty years ago."_ The implications there were worrisome to say the least. It was a cruel irony that these Terrans had suffered through a trial sounding similar to what the Colonies had gone through in nearly the same period. Her own people had gone through their own trials over the years, though Athena had kept such things to herself and neither the President nor the Old Man had ever asked her about it. Even Helo, God bless him, hadn't broached the subject with her.

She wondered about the survivor they'd found aboard _Nemesis_ a year ago. What had that poor, broken creature seen to leave her so traumatized? Athena herself had been forbidden to see the survivor for some reason. She had respected the order and made it clear if she were needed, she would make herself available. Certainly Adama hadn't been shy in getting her opinion concerning Caprica and having the odd Q-and-A with the prisoner-turned-adviser.

But the survivor had been marked off-limits to her from the start. She didn't even know which model it was, save that it was a female. However strong her curiosity on it was, Athena respected the orders of her superiors and didn't press the issue. Marriage, motherhood and duties as the _Nemesis_ CAG were quite enough to deal with, thank you very much.

Right then, Sharon Agathon dearly wished she'd could've brought some of the copious paperwork she had yet to work through, if only to have something to think about other than how desperately she wanted to throw open these doors and...

The wall-phone chimed loudly nearby. Athena quickly walked to it and answered, "Greeting party."

It was Specialist Eichya. _"Captain, be advised the Terrans are breaking their first-stage quarantine in a moment. The Commander orders you do the meet-and-greet in five minutes."_

"Understood," Athena stated and turned to the Marines. "On your feet, Marines. Meet and greet our visitors in five. Safeties off but fingers off the triggers." The four-man fire team straightened up and held their weapons at the ready.

Athena did the countdown in her head, starting backwards in her head from two-thirty, her nerves steadying and calming as she reached zero.

She hit the airlock release and stepped back, waiting for the door to shift away. At the last second, she motioned for the Marines to remain where they stood and elected to meet these new arrivals alone.

She managed five steps in before stopping short in shock at the sight of five large shapes lumbering towards her. She thought of the first generation Cylons for a moment. Only when they moved into the light did she see them for what they were: five humanoid figures in very bulky orange suits. The suits were identical and lacked any rank insignia or identification to distinguish among them.

Athena took a moment to debate and lay her money that the one sandwiched between the other four was Admiral Rice. She also started to question the wisdom of having the Marines stay in the corridor, given weapons they were clearly pointing in her direction.

Not knowing what else to do, she snapped off a formal salute…and was surprised to have it returned by one of the figures directly in front of her. She was even more startled by the words that came from the figure.

"Admiral Theodore Rice, Terran Defense Fleet."

Military training had her on auto-pilot at that point. "Captain Sharon Agathon. Operations Officer, Battlestar _Nemesis._"

"Request permission to come aboard, Captain."

"Granted, Sir. If you'll follow me, I'm to escort you and your party to our Command Deck." Athena quickly spun on her heel and marched back to the hatchway, not wanting to think about how _fluent_ the Admiral's command of Colonial Standard was, never mind the number of guns possibly still being aimed at her back.

It would only occur to her later that she was likely exceeding her authority saying this. Then again, it wasn't as if the Colonial Fleet Officers Manual had regs for the various disasters and mishaps they'd all lived through the last half-decca. If indeed Starbuck had been living among these Terrans as she claimed, they must have been up on Fleet rank insignia. If an Admiral was content being greeted by a lowly Captain, who was she to argue?

* * *

She marched to the CIC, not once daring to even glance back. No doubt the Marines had fallen into place directly behind the Terrans, who in turn were doubtless shadowing her every step. A rare flash of foresight on Kelly's part had made sure the corridors between Bay One and CIC were all cleared beforehand. 

It therefore took only a handful of minutes for them to reach CIC, at which point Athena was visualizing herself on a parade ground and presenting her Academy class for inspection. "The contact party, Commander."

Tigh was quick to bark out, "Visiting officers on the Bridge." Athena noted how the CIC had been effectively cleared of nonessentials, which meant it was just the CO, XO, and three Specialists. All of them nevertheless straightened and snapped off expert salutes to their five visitors. She noted all five did the same a beat later.

They all might well have stayed that way if the visitor in the lead, she presumed Admiral Rice, lowered his hand slowly. The rest of his party followed suit. Commander Tigh kept his own hand elevated a beat longer, and then lowered his own salute.

"Commander Tigh?" Admiral Rice offered in stiff Colonial, boldly stepping forward and extending his massive hand. He either didn't notice or didn't care that every Colonial officer and rating present tensed and was ready to spring forward.

Tigh cleared his throat, effectively ordering everyone to back away, and then clasped the offered hand. "Admiral Rice. This is…an honor, Sir." Those who knew him could hear the hitch in his voice as he reached for something intelligent to say.

"The honor is mine, Commander."

Neither man moved for a single, pregnant moment. They then moved away from each other slowly and put a single pace of distance between them. The entire CIC went completely still, waiting for either side to make the next move.

The suitcase-like device held by one of the other Terrans beeped, prompting the man to murmur something unintelligible to Rice. Tigh quickly asked"What was that?"

The Admiral quickly cleared his throat and explained "Our equipment is sampling and testing the air for anything that might prove contagious to us. Corporal Lewis was simply reporting an 'all clear'."

Tigh's mouth quirked slightly, relief washing through him. "I hope you aren't suggesting we're out to deliberately poison you all."

The Admiral's tone was however all business. "Certainly not, Commander. We're just being cautious."

Hearing this, Tigh visibly relaxed and nodded to his opposite number. "I should hope so, Sir." It was clear these people knew their business well enough he could let them take the lead for the moment. Lords knew he needed a bit of time to acclimate to circumstances.

To buy himself a bit more time, he turned and waved towards his XO and a couple of latecomers. "This is my Executive Officer, Major Karl Agathon. You've already met my Operations Officer and acting CAG, Captain Agathon. And these two latecomers over there are my lead pilot, Lieutenant Costanza, and our medical officer, Lieutenant Ishnay."He let only the mildest tone of reproach toward the last two, though this was more than enough to leave all present clearly embarrassed. He hadn't wanted those two to show their faces here just now; Kelly must have missed them as he relocated with the Second Watch crew to Beta Command. Ah well.

The Admiral gracefully nodded to each then did the same with his own group. "With me are Major Taylor, Sergeant Gaurland, and Corporal Lewis, all from my ship's Marine detachment."There was a breath-long pause, after which he stepped aside and allowed the figure behind his left shoulder to stand alone. "I believe you already know Colonel Thrace,"he finished.

No one missed how the four Terrans arranged themselves into a defensive circle as the figure offered a semi-crisp salute. A familiar voice greeted them. "Commander."

Tigh returned the salute stiffly, his throat hitching slightly as he responded, "C…Colonel." Without taking his eyes off her, he ordered, "XO, you have the ship for the next hour. Athena, Costanza, Lieutenant, you're with me. Admiral, if you and your party will accompany me to our Operations Room? We can discuss things better there." He was back to delaying actions again, utterly off-balance and having no idea how to handle this situation. Just about the only thing to recommend Ops was that it was an enclosed space and private.

Rice nevertheless seemed content to allow this relocation as he said, "Lead on, Commander." Tigh gave a sharp nod to Helo and led them all to Ops, which naturally wasn't much more than a planning table and couple of wall-mounted hand phones. The sparseness of the room embarrassed the Commander for some reason and he apologized for being unable to offer any of them chairs to sit in.

Rice replied, "Quite alright, Commander. We…can't really sit down in these…these suits…" His voice drifted off as the two parties arranged on opposite sides of the table. Nobody made any moves towards the other, but neither did anyone try to break the silence that stretched between them all.

A few however did jump when the only one present _nobody_ was so much as glancing at piped up and stated "Sirs, perhaps I should leave the room…"

"No!"

This came from four different sources and was all but shouted at the same time. Tigh was the only one to actually flinch from this, though clearly everyone was startled by the outburst. After this everyone was staring or at least glancing meaningfully in Thrace's direction for another stretch of uncertain silence.

It was Rice who finally broke the impasse with a shake of his head. "Look, this is getting ridiculous. Agreed Commander?"

Tigh pulled his gaze away from the barely-visible face within thevisored helmet across the room and turned to face him directly. "Indeed, Admiral."

"No doubt you have some questions for us. And Colonel Thrace in particular?"

"Only a few thousand, Admiral. And no doubt you have some of your own, yes?"

"Yes."

Tigh looked to Athena, who only offered a quick nod of agreement. "Then please go ahead and ask them. I am sure Star...Colonel Thrace will translate if required. Acceptable for the moment?" The Admiral nodded. "One question of my own: would you care to move this somewhere else, or are you comfortable re?"

"Commander, my people and I are each wearing a stone-and-a-half worth of rubber and Kevlar that is environmentally sealed _and_ lacks internal plumbing. 'Comfort' isn't in the cards right now."

Tigh couldn't help the smirk at the Terran's candor. Instead, he nodded gravely. "Understood, Sir." He took another breath. "How much has Colonel Thrace told you about us?"

Rice looked to Starbuck. "Colonel?"

Thrace stepped forward and appeared to address the opposite wall. Everyone notice how this conveniently kept her eyes _off_ both sides. "I have provided as thorough briefing as possible of Colonial history, Commander. At no time have I been under any duress to do so, nor have I knowingly compromised the Fleet's operational security."

Tigh mentally noted how closely this mirrored Rice's earlier statement to them over the wireless. She was either reading off a script, or she felt as lost as he himself did. He nevertheless felt the need to add, "Including the attack by the Cylons."

"Yes, Sir.

Tigh wasn't sure if he was relieved or discomforted by this. Rather than dwell on it he turned back to the Admiral. "Do you require a formal request for our Fleet to enter this star system?"

"Do you intend to settle here, in this star system?"

"Possibly." This was as far as Tigh was willing to go, memories of New Caprica suddenly fresh in his mind.

Rice chose that moment put in "I'll need some further evidence you and your ship aren't a massive Cylon construct designed to trap us."

"Not convinced, are you?" Tigh addressed the question to Starbuck, laying an internal wager on her response.

"Would you be?"

Her tone was as challenging as ever, just on the edge of outright disrespect. Athena and her shipmates covered their amusement well. Tigh simply nodded, his normal frown deepening to an almost-sneer. "I'd have my weapon out at all times_. If_ it were me, that is."

"Good thing then it isn't you, right? Might forget to keep the safety on, or keep the chamber clear."

"Colonel." This came from Rice, Tigh quickly jumping in to defuse the rush of tension among the Terrans.

"It's alright, Admiral. The Colonel and I…we know where we stand with each other."

"Yes, Sir," Starbuck affirmed. To Tigh she said, "I…apologize…if I'm too far out of line, Commander." There naturally wasn't a hint of apology to her tone.

"Accepted, even if I don't recall you _ever_ being 'in line' with anything, Colonel." Deciding she'd had enough fun for the moment, Tigh addressed Rice. "Admiral? What sort of evidence will you require to be satisfied?"

"An explanation of how you acquired this vessel would be a start."Rice waved his hand about for emphasis. Clearly Starbuck had briefed her new crewmates on the basic differences between Colonial and Cylon ships.

Tigh decided he'd done enough talking for the moment and turned to Athena. "Captain Agathon, if you would?"

"Yes, Sir. Our fleet came across the _Nemesis_ approximately a year ago according to our calendar. Has Starbuck…Colonel Thrace explained our system of time measurements, Sir?"

"She has."

"Very well. The decision was made to salvage the _Nemesis_, which was floating derelict at the time, and commission it into the Colonial Fleet under military control."

"You mean you found a frakkin' Basestar just floating about abandoned?" Starbuck's tone carried enough disbelief for the entire Fleet. Tigh couldn't blame her in the slightest.

"You can understand our, ahem, _surprise_ at such a find. And God knows we weren't about to turn down a gift like this."

"Despite the possibility of it being a trap?"

"Naturally we considered that. Search parties however found…" Athena couldn't help the pause that came next. "There were…bodies…aboard…"

"_Lots _of bodies," Tigh caught himself murmuring.

"Cylons? Mechanical or…?"

"Both. The entire crew compliment."

"Mother of God…" Rice couldn't say more. Tigh caught his whispered exclamation and made a point to try discussing theology with the man later. "How?"

"We have some...some theories, but don't know anything definite," Athena stated bluntly. "There were no hull breaches and no indication of external engagement. There was wreckage surrounding it from what we believe was another Basestar and possibly a Resurrection Ship. You know what that is as well, yes?"

"Yes."

"Additionally, remember I said it was derelict, _not_ abandoned. There was one survivor found. She was…is…badly traumatized by whatever happened."

"Which model?" Starbuck suddenly asked.

"That's for later. In any case, she isn't aboard this ship." Tigh's tone precluded questions along this line. He wasn't sure why he wasn't willing to part with this bit of information right then; perhaps simply because he still wanted to keep a few cards to his chest.

Rice evidentially took the hint and turned to more practical matters. "This brings us to the next issue. Colonel Thrace led us to understand there would be some 40,000 survivors coming. Surely they aren't all crammed aboard this one ship, Commander?"

"No, they are not. The remainder of our Fleet is waiting outside of this system. As our original message to you stated we are an advanced party, Sir."

"Phrased like that, given what we know from Starbuck, are you surprised how cautious we are?"

"Not in the slightest, Admiral." Tigh wiped the small bit of sweat from his pate and added, "I'm personally relieved by it, to be honest."

"Oh?"

Before Tigh could say anything in elaboration, the handphone behind him chimed. Athena quickly moved to answer it. As she did, Tigh noted how Rice, Taylor and Starbuck all moved into a small huddle and exchanged hushed words he couldn't understand between them. He strained to hear them, if only so to get a better idea of their native language.

Athena came back and murmured, "Four of their planes have moved off-screen. We're getting some ghosts on the DRADIS that might be more of their planes."

"I presume our Alert Wings are still standing ready?"

"Affirmative."

This apparently had been noticed by Starbuck and her Terrans. "Commander?" Rice called over, looking to Tigh specifically.

"An update from my XO, Sir."

"Something wrong, Commander?"

"No, no. Just a couple of your planes flew off just now."

"I see."

"And your own conference there? Anything we should know?"

"My officers simply suggested we have someone man our shuttle and re-establish contact with our ship."

"Which is where, may I ask?" Tigh personally held no hope that the Admiral would tell them anything concrete; no serious office**r** would.

He was therefore unsurprised when all Rice would say was "Nearby."

"You have a twelve-hour quarantine period before you can take those suits off, correct?"

"Technically," the Admiral nodded. "If you and your crew are willing, we may be able to cut that period short a little."

"How?" This came from Ishnay, whose normally irritatingly-pitched voice Tigh felt remarkably relieved to hear right then.

Rice waved to Corporal Lewis, who stated in patented Marine growl, "I can take some samples from members of the crew here and do some tests for possible biohazards in either blood or saliva with some of the equipment aboard our shuttle."

The term 'samples' set off alarm claxons in Tigh's head. "How many…samples would you need?" He hoped nobody heard the hesitation in his voice right then.

"Depends upon how many crew you have aboard. The larger the sample, the more confident we can be."

"I, uh, noticed Colonel Thrace doesn't appear to have suffered any adverse reactions to your atmosphere."

Admiral Rice cut in. "We're treating Colonel Thrace as a…special case."

Athena muttered something Tigh couldn't entirely make out. "What was that, Captain?"

"Nothing, Commander."

"Humph." He actually had a _very_ good idea what his CAG had muttered, which simply mirrored his own thoughts. Instead of dwelling on it, he turned to his CMO and ordered, "Lieutenant Ishnay, you are to provide Admiral Rice's men with whatever assistance they require. Captain, pass the word this is a direct order from me." For all he knew he'd just ordered his crew to submit to involuntary organ donation. He nevertheless wanted to see how this played out and trusted his crew to ensure their safety.

"Aye, Commander."

"Admiral Rice? How long will it take your men to analyze the samples we provide?"

"Lewis?"

"I'd say five to ten minutes, depending on the complexity of the samples."

Starbuck gave something that vaguely resembled an actual chuckle at this exchange. Athena and Tigh both stared over at her. Before either could ask anything, Rice called to her. "Colonel?"

"Sorry, Sir. What was that?"

"The Commander suggested we continue this discussion while Corporal Lewis and Lieutenant Ishnay beginning testing fluid and blood samples from the crew. Does that sound acceptable?" Starbuck asked something in the Terran's native language, which sounded like a painful mouthful of consonants and syllables. Rice nevertheless replied in Standard, "Sergeant Gaurland will return to the shuttle and act as an internal relay for us."

The Admiral gave them an apologetic look and said, "The Colonel simply asked who would return to our shuttle, Commander. I'm sure she didn't mean to cut you out of the discussion or any manner of disrespect."

"That's alright, Admiral. As I said, Starbuck and I share a…_long_ history." This sounded conciliatory enough that Athena and Costanza gave him an odd look. The sneer curving the Commander's lips reassured them he was feeling anything but.

* * *

_It proved fortuitous that so many within the Fleet were of Sagittarian and Gamelian __origin; or__ else, Roslin might not have agreed to a petition to celebrate the Feast of Dioyun. Despite its less-than-artful name, the celebration was one of the arts rather than of the stomach. That their fleet had found a small system with planets they might forage from was itself a boon and taken as a sign._

_The Sadeim chose the last day of the Feast, which was week-long affair, as their moment to act. _

_It was fourteenth day of the month of Lyria, the Month of Blood that the four Sadeim Nomen moved to aid the Dying Matron in her final journey to rejoin the Circle of Pythias. But for the interference of her aide, they might have succeeded in their effort. Alas, the most they managed was to injure her further, but not severely._

_The four died with the knowledge that they took her aide with them, her heart pierced twice and her chest opened wide._

_How odd, then, that their victim opened her eyes and breathed once again not two hours later. The wounds the Sadeim had inflicted had all closed and healed. _

_Very odd, indeed. _

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

See disclaimers and Notes in Part One.

* * *

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA**

**THE LONG ROAD HOME**

**Book II: The Summit of ****Pisgah**

* * *

The following takes place concurrently with the events in Book I

* * *

**Commander's Quarters**

**Five Hours and Twenty Minutes since Contact**

The hours that followed that first conference crawled past for Tigh.

He'd been more than happy to parcel off Rice and Starbuck onto Helo while Rice's men worked with Ishnay collecting blood samples from the crew. He'd left Kelly on as the Officer of the Watch and tasked Athena to chase down a radiation leak that was just starting to register. Busy work all of it, something to keep their minds occupied while he figured out their next move.

So he retreated to his cabin, intent upon doing exactly that. As soon as the hatch clicked close behind him, the Commander moved to his Spartan desk and pulled out a bottle of the Chief's 'special brew'. It had been a private gift from Tyrol to mark his promotion to Commander, kind of a hollow joke between the two of them. He'd been dry as a Picon desert since the Nebula and that godsbedamned music, limiting his intake strictly to coffee and water.

Tigh quickly opened the bottle and poured a single shot, but made no move to pick it up. He instead stared at it for hours on end, still as a statue. One could be forgiven thinking he was in some meditative trance. Or simply asleep.

The plain truth of it all was he, Saul Tigh, was scared out of his wits. So much so, he was quite literally paralyzed by the enormity of the situation now confronting him.

If it had simply been Starbuck returning from the dead, it was likely he could have dealt with that. That would have been a situation he could actually understand and deal with.

However, she hadn't just returned from the dead alone, had she? What in the names of the Twelve Lords was he supposed to do now? Tigh found himself, perhaps uncharitably, hoping that Rice's men would find something dangerous in his people's blood that would force them to forgo full contact.

Tigh stared at the shot of liquor before him. He knew, as surely as he would never again summon the courage to pick up that glass, that Rice's people wouldn't find anything that would lead to such a decision. He had no idea how he knew such a thing to begin with. The certainty of it all was there all the same.

So where did that leave him and his people? To frak with that. Where did that leave Starbuck?

Tigh dearly wished he could just call the Old Man over the wireless and inform him of...everything. He'd happily hand the whole mess off to Adama right now, save for that tiny smidgen of doubt that seemed to creep into his every thought these days. _What if,_ that damned voice whispered, _What if that's what you've been programmed to do, you miserable frak-up drunk of a toaster?_

Only the fact they hadn't encountered any Cylons in nearly a year since first coming across the _Nemesis_, only that small fact had kept him from loading an explosive round into his sidearm and putting it to his neck. If not for the fact Apollo was, once again, on the outs with his father...well, whatever else he might be, Saul Tigh was not about to abandon his oldest friend. At least not before he was damned good and certain his leaving wouldn't put Bill Adama in too rough a spot.

If however what Tigh was starting to suspect was true, soon it might become a moot issue. Which also meant he'd have to put his metaphorical cubits where his damned mouth was and...

The wall-phone chimed softly. Tigh didn't hesitate in standing and answering it. "Yeah?"

It was Helo. _"Sir? Lieutenant Ishnay says we should meet him and the Terrans in Life Station ASAP."_

"He say what for?"

"_Just that it was urgent all senior officers, Colonial and Terran, be present."_

"You still with the Terran Admiral and Starbuck?"

"_Yes, Sir."_

"Very well. Get them there. Athena and I will meet you there. Tigh clear." He cut the connection, and then dialed up the CIC. "Kelly, pass the word that Captain Agathon is to meet me… and our visitors in Life Station ASAP." He hung up the phone. As straightened his uniform jacket, his single eye wasdrawn back toward his desk...and the shot glass.

Tigh picked it up and carried it to his small head, where he promptly poured it down drain. He regretted the decision a moment later as he caught sight of his reflection; he should have put that poison to good use and just thrown it at the mirror instead.

He marched out of quarters after that and resolved not to make the same mistake twice.

* * *

_The aide's healing and resurrection was, amazingly, not immediately noticed. It was clear to all at the time that she was gone, and there was no telling if more Sadeim were going to attempt another assassination. In such a cauldron of suspicion and panic, who in their right mind worried over a bloody corpse?_

_Yet rise she did, as much to her own surprise as any others (had they been present). She was quick to exit the morgue and sneak her way into the arms of her fellow and occasional lover. He greeted with equal parts horror and surprise, then quickly and wordlessly spirited her off to a supply closet somewhere in the bowels of the Battlestar. Once they were hidden from easy sight, he pulled her into his arms and did not seem even remotely inclined to ever let her go._

_In time__ they did separate, and the full danger facing them came crashing upon them both. A human could not have survived the wounds inflicted upon her, never mind healed so quickly. Was this what separated the four of them from their supposed brethren? Was this meant to be a blessing, or a final curse? _

_When they did part, it was with the firm understanding she remain hidden until he could bring the others up to speed with this newest development. She swore before Athena and Artemis she would, the vow almost comical in the face of the blasphemy that was their existence._

_It was days before matters calmed enough where he could communicate with the others. During that time, he had managed to sneak small rations to his lover, who complained neither of her confinement nor of hunger. Unsurprisingly, her only concern was the safety of the President and the Fleet. He offered what assurances he could, which were meager in the extreme. _

_A full week passed. Paranoia slowly ebbed to suspicion and caution. Finally, the athlete-turned-soldier felt he could risk approaching the others with his news. He had passed subtle messages to the two to meet him at a late hour under the cover of ordinary work._

_**However,**__ The Four Fates, if indeed it was their work, saw fit to intervene on that same day. An unfortunate and unnoticed aftermath of the Sadeim's attack had been that some more routine and commonsense maintenance had been temporarily forgotten. Among them, ensuring certain heavy chemical cleaners were properly secured. _

_There was __**no one**_

* * *

**Life Station, Basestar **_**Nemesis**_

**Five Hours and twenty-five minutes since contact**

Two things hit Tigh as he stared into the display screen the Terrans directed everyone's attention to. First was that he didn't feel his normal sense of revulsion at stepping into Life Station; it was only natural given what happened shortly after the Sadeim Nomen's attempt on Roslin's life. He had actually gone to great lengths to keep physical examinations to a minimum.

The second and far more worrisome one was the Terran's alphabet. The more he saw of it the more it became understandable to him. He felt chills as he unconsciously began to organize the strangely shaped symbols into logic chains and begin seeking similarities with his own language; all of this happening entirely independently of his conscious control.

Aloud he said "Please tell me my people are in danger from...all that." The sheer number of red notations across the screen, which he intuitively concluded were names of diseases or viruses or gods-knew-what. Silently he prayed to those same gods that it was precisely as he said and, however reluctantly, the Fleet would have to bypass this system entirely.

He could feel himself choke as Terran operating the scanner explained quite the opposite was the case. Fortunately, everyone's attention was so focused upon the machinery itself that they failed to notice how close Tigh was to outright fainting from the news. "What? How?"

"Got me there, Sir," the Terran Marine shrugged. "Every sample I've run shows them coming up negative against everything from the common cold to Marburg Influenza. Hell, even Mannheim-Tariq Strains B and D are projected at a zero-point-five percent rate of infection."

This didn't mean a thing to Tigh or his officers, although the Terrans were apparently impressed going by their murmurs at this news. Tigh grit**ted** his teeth and tried a different track. "How about the other way around? Are you in any danger from us?"

The Terran shrugged again. "I'm finding nothing unidentifiable or even vaguely threatening besides a vague analogo**us** to Chicken Pox **It **looks so weak a couple **of a**spirin could probably lick it."

"Chick-ken Poch?" Tigh tried out the unfamiliar words, unable to help the sour look that resulted.

He turned to Starbuck for a proper translation. "Coryn's Fever, Commander. He doesn't find anything more serious than that." Tigh could only stare at his former subordinate and career-headache, wondering if she wasn't making a joke. Going by her tense stance, it wasn't, which led the Commander to turn to his CMO for confirmation.

"But, uh, what they're saying does make sense," Ishnay was saying, prompting to Tigh to demand he elaborate. "Sir, when was the last time we had an actual health crisis in the Fleet?"

Tigh felt himself go faint again as the possibilities played themselves out in his mind like a Viper at full throttle and all safeties off-line. Ever since Tyrol had found the Eye of Jupiter and they had gone on an all-algae diet, actual sickness and malnutrition had virtually disappeared from their daily lives. The occasional outbreak of feversweats or other small ailments had occurred, but often were so isolated and quickly done with they barely registered any longer. Even the Sagittarians appeared as healthy as the rest of them, and they still refused modern medications.

So many things suddenly seemed to fall into place with this news it left Tigh feeling almost dizzy. A crazy laugh threatened to bubble up at all these sudden insights. It was nearly too much to take in.

Tigh needed only think of finding Tory and Anders in their holding cell nineteen months ago and all laughter left him. He refocused just in time to see Starbuck and the Terrans in yet another huddle, speaking in their strange dialect between themselves. Far from being annoyed this time, Tigh it and strained to make out their words. To his relief, he still couldn't make heads or tails of it; at least no consciously. Lords knew what his preprogrammed subconscious was making of what little he could hear.

The Admiral turned back to face him directly and, to Tigh's well-concealed if fast-mounting panic, began to undo the seals of his biohazard suit he wore. The Colonial Officer that was Saul Tigh watched him do so dispassionately, while Saul Tigh the Cylon-loathing man beneath the Officer wanted to scream _Stop! Don't do this! You can't trust me! You can't trust us! You can't invite us in or your people will die!_

Admiral Rice did not pause his movements, and began removing his visored hood even as Tigh continued to silently implore him _Be monsters, I beg you. Be so hideous we'll want nothing to do with you! Make us scream and fear you! It's the only way your people will survive!_

Commander Saul Tigh forced himself to remain perfectly still as he gazed upon the dark, sweat-soaked human face of Admiral Theodore Rice, not entirely listening to him as he spoke some official sounding greeting. It took him a few more seconds to realize Rice had extended his hand forward. Instinct took over from there.

He leaned over and grasped it firmly as he dared. All he could coherently choke out was "Before we continue…"

"Yes?"

"May I offer you the use of our showers?" He was equal parts relieved and dismayed at the audible chuckles that followed this. "No, Sir," he continued seriously. "I'm quite serious here."

The Admiral cast a look back to his men and then over to Starbuck, herself pulling free of her own suit now. None of them looked especially presentable under the circumstances. "I think we'll take you up on that offer, Commander." Tigh managed, barely, not to flinch at how alike this stranger was to Bill Adama in both voice and manner. It perversely proved both reassuring and frightening.

* * *

Fortunately, the next hour afforded the Commander little time to dwell upon his personal discomfort or demons. Instead, he was hissing out orders and subtly directing Athena to segregate Starbuck from the others, both of them coming out of the chemical shower looking none the worse for wear for it. After that, he sat tensely as they listened to Ishnay assuring them all thatThrace was indeed _the_ Kara Thrace, topping it all off with Starbuck herself vehemently denying she appeared to Apollo in the Nebula.

None of this was a surprise, although he couldn't for the life of him explain why he believed her from the first. He didn't dare voice such thoughts and instead spat, "And we're just supposed to take your _word_ on this, Colonel?"

The next thing he knew, Tigh was looking at Starbuck's sidearm as it slid across the table toward him. "There's a live round in that," she stated by way of explanation. "If my word is so worthless to you, one of you go ahead, pick that weapon up, and shoot me."

Tigh paled at the memories the words invoked. Athena somehow stuttered a confused "What's…?"

Thrace cut off all protest by slamming both fists into the table top, knuckles first. The result was a dull 'thud' that nevertheless cut through the room like a cannon. "I said shoot, not talk." Her next words were addressed directly to the Commander. "Wus' the matter? No guts? Don't got a pair?" She leaned forward, both fists planted on the table, nostrils flaring.

Ishnay looked like he wanted to quit the room entirely and Athena actually began looking uncomfortable at the mood of the room. Tigh simply stared at the gun before him, face as blank as a professional card sharp, his whole attention focused upon divining the workings of the gun now sitting before him.

The Admiral muttered something unintelligible to Major Taylor, who carefully placed both his hands on the table before him.

"You're a frakkin' coward," Starbuck was stating, as loudly and clearly as if she were reciting a poem. "I've got enough things to...to worry over without some one-eyed drunk thinking he can sit in judgment over me, questioning my frakkin' word."

Tigh wasn't actually listening to this short tirade. He instead decided to put a small theory to the test. He stood and picked up the weapon. He made no other move for several long beats as he weighed it in one hand.

"Well?" Starbuck prompted.

The Commander waited another moment, all the while careful not to point the muzzle directly towards anyone present and finger well away from the trigger. Tightening his grip, he then pulled the slide back and ejected the round from the chamber and, with a flick of his thumb, successfully ejected the magazine. The entire room seemed breath a collective sigh as the plastic casing clattered noisily onto the tabletop. This done, Tigh laid the pistol back down and slid it back to its owner with a familiar growl saying, "Just so you know, I've been dry for two years now. The next time you draw a weapon on my officers or me, _Colonel_, you'd be damned ready to _fire_ it. Understand me?"

For emphasis, he slid the magazine over next with a slightly more vicious shove. Starbuck caught it before it slid completely off the edge.

"Perfectly. Sir." She slid the clip back into the casing and reset the safety, then settled it back into its holster. "You're still a bastard, Sir."

"And you're still a professional frak-up." The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. "But damn it is...good to see you again, Captain."

"Likewise," Starbuck replied with her trademark grin. She added as an afterthought, "Colonel."

Tigh found himself no longer caring about her blatant disrespect of him or his rank. He only wanted one final assurance from her. "Tell me it wasn't you out there."

"It wasn't me. I swear before the Lords of Kobol, Sir, it wasn't me."

"Okay. I believe you." Tigh retook his seat; Starbuck following suit. The rest of the room immediately breathed another, more audible sigh of relief.

Admiral Rice sat forward. "If that's all settled, perhaps we can get back to discussing more immediate issues? Anyone have any objections?"

"Agreed, Admiral." Tigh looked between his officers, as if daring any of them to say him nay. None did, though he didn't doubt they wouldn't hesitate to speak their mind**s** if some did occur to them. Given no one on either side was jumping to speak up, Tigh again took the initiative. "Would you care to take the lead here, Sir?"

Rice gave him an indulgent smile at the diplomatic dodge. "I'll confess I'm operating a bit in the dark here myself, Commander," he confessed frankly.

"Even with the arrival of Cap...Colonel Thrace here?"

"The Colonel's arrival caused us to...discard a sizable number of assumptions we'd been holding concerning non-terrestrial life. Not to mention her scaring the collective spit out of our leadership once we got over the language difficulties."

Athena chose that moment to speak up. "So this isn't your native language, Admiral?"

"No, Captain. It isn't."

Tigh sounded sufficiently impressed saying, "Then my compliments on your fluency. I'd have taken you as a native of any of the Twelve Colonies."

"My thanks there, Sir. Our fleet has made it a point to ensure as many officers as possible have some command of your language." Rice shared a quick look with Starbuck, something subtle being communicated between them. The Admiral cleared his throat and came to a decision. "Perhaps we should discuss what we might expect next when my superiors give the all-clear for your fleet to jump in-system."

"You expect such a decision soon, Admiral?" Tigh felt himself unconsciously tense at the prospect.

"I do."

"Hmph. I haven't checked with our President recently, but I'd put our current population at just under 40,000." Tigh gave Athena a quick glance of his own. Her short nod was all the confirmation he needed.

Rice gave a nod of his own and thought a moment. "I see. Any medical issues you are aware of?"

"Ishnay?"

The ship's CMO gave a nervous sound of his own and said, "As I noted earlier, Sirs, we've been remarkably lucky in that respect. I'm sure there will be issues of nutritional needs and the like, but we haven't had any major illnesses break out in some time."

"We expected as much since...excuse me a moment, Commander." Rice pulled a small earpiece and attached mike from his jacket's pocket and placed it to his ear. He nodded and spoke quickly but softly into it. Starbuck followed suit a moment later and both listened intently.

Tigh took the time to reflect upon how closely the Terran's uniforms so closely resembled those he and his officers wore. Beyond small things such as their headgear and different colored piping on their sleeves, they all could have been mistaken for Colonials. Tigh found this considerably reassuring.

Whatever message was being transmitted had the Admiral muttering again in his native tongue as he removed his earpiece and sharing another look with Starbuck. This one though seemed to run the gamut of resignation, relief and more than a little real excitement.

"Admiral?" Tigh called over to them, trying hard not to sound either irritated or aggrieved.

"My apologies, Commander. We were just notified of a transmission from our…home base, as it were."

"Anything you can share?"

Rice gave another glance toward Starbuck, who simply stared straight ahead. In the wake of her tense silence he said, "I…we have been informed a senior diplomatic team is en route. We are to prepare for their arrival."

"Meaning what precisely?"

The phone mounted on the wall behind them chimed softly. Athena was up and answering it before the second chime could finish.

Rice fixed him with a look that could be read any number of ways. "Do I have your word you harbor no aggressive intentions against us?"

Before Tigh could answer, Athena calmly stepped over to him and whispered into his ear. "There's a concentrated radiation source aboard their shuttle. Looks like a small nuke." Tigh kept his expression as blank as possible and merely nodded for her to retake her seat.

He then leaned forward and asked, "Do I have _your_ word that you aren't going to detonate the nuclear weapon you have aboard your shuttle?"

The only response this garnered was a shared and audible sigh of relief from both Starbuck and Rice, followed by the former uncrossing her arms and pulling a small object from inside her sleeve. It was a slender metallic tube with a conspicuously red button at one end.

Athena's eyebrows climbed, while Tigh sputtered with mock outrage. "You gave _her_ the trigger to a nuclear weapon?"

The Admiral shrugged. "She knows your people better than we do," he stated without a hint of apology. "How did you, er, detect it?"

"Uh, one of my Marines overheard your men talking. We may not get your native language yet, but she could make out something with a nuke symbol painted on it." Tigh smirked a bit. "Plus, our internal sensor sweep picked up a low-grade radiation signature on your ship. Didn't think anything of it until Sergeant Matthias reported what she saw."

"Hope we haven't offended."

Tigh nearly laughed, feeling genuinely relieved by this turn of events. "I'd be more offended if you _weren't_ taking precautions," he said with all sincerity, then sobered to his more habitual scowl. "But with all due respect, Admiral. You gave the trigger to..._her_?" Tigh was as surprised as anyone at how he didn't sound either irritated or shocked or even angry. If anything, he actually felt...proud...of his former headache and subordinate.

"As I said, she knows your people better than we do. Besides, she claimed Blood Rites on any toasters who jumped into this system. I don't need to elaborate, do I?"

"No. Not at all." This wasn't much of a surprise to him either, though it did cause him to go quiet a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. "So, Admiral, where do you suggest we go from here?"

"I have a couple suggestions, if you'd be amenable that is," Rice replied after a quiet moment's thought of his own. "Would you be...amenable...to an exchange of officers while I await my superiors to arrive?"

"A good idea, Sir," Tigh nodded. "I'm sure Major Taylor..."

Admiral Rice quickly interrupted. "I was actually thinking of myself remaining aboard, Commander."

No one moved or even breathed after this for a single, long breath.

Starbuck was the first to break the silence with a yell of, "You want to do...what?"

This mirrored Tigh's own thoughts perfectly. He could only wonder, not for the first time and certainly not likely to be the last, whether the Four Fates were having some sick laugh at his expense. Anders and Foster came to mind, causing him to visibly shudder.

He felt Starbuck's eyes on him right then, given him even more incentive to focus upon Rice and seek a way to end the hubbub filling the air.

* * *

_Despite all caution and professionalism on the part of the Battlestar's deck crews, accidents were inevitable. Some were mundane and damaged nothing but a crewmember's pride; others proved more...catastrophic._

_A single barrel of refined heavy cleansers, normally used to clear air and recycling systems of waste build-ups, coming loose and rolling over the deck was the sort of error that would normally involve much yelling but little damage even if it cracked open slightly and spread some of its caustic contents upon the deck. _

_But who could have predicted the barrel in question impacting with sufficient force that its lid would come completely free, or that its contents were under unusual pressure and would come spraying out as if it were fresh-shaken champagne? _

_Such was the disaster that befell the _Galactica'_s crew that day. By some small nod of chance, the only ones who would have been in danger were the Chief Petty Officer of the deck and a newly commissioned pilot who was seeking to have a quiet word with him. The latter managed to shove the former away just an instant before the barrel of cleanser hit, leaving the younger man to be sprayed with foul-smelling acids._

_His screams nearly drowned out the other cries that came from this, his entire upper half burning off before the crew's eyes. He lingered long enough for the ship's surgeon to reach his side, by which time he looked like some manner of nightmare come alive rather than a champion Pyramid player._

_All that could be done for him right then was to wait for his passage to Charon and his body bagged away. All present were certain his cries of pain would echo on the flight deck for years to come._

_How strange then that he would emerge from the black bag he'd been place into just two hours later, fully healed and coherent._

_But, unlike the President's aide, there were witnesses this time._

TBC...

* * *

**The author seez:** I'm in the midst of a major relocation of myself and my family, so I likely won't be able to update for a few weeks. Sorry, guys. Promise I'll make it up to you. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, last time this time around:**

Dialogue in Colonial Standard is not bolded.

**Dialogue in English ****is**** bolded.**

_Dialogue over the wireless is always in italics. _

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA**

**THE LONG ROAD HOME**

**Book II: The Summit of ****Pisgah**

**Part Four**

* * *

The following takes place between Parts 8 and 9 in Book I

* * *

**Landing Bay One**

**Basestar**_**Nemesis**_

**Seven Hours and Fifteen Minutes since Contact**

"I can't believe you're going along with this," Starbuck groused to Tigh as they watched Guarland and Lewis carry the simple black case out of the scout vessel. The sounds of the landing bay seemed to fade as their eyes caught sight of the unmistakable three rounded triangles stenciled on its side.

Tigh groused in return, saying, "Too much excitement for you, Captain?"

"Drunk."

"Frak-up. By rights I ought to toss your boney ass into the nearest cell and toss away the key." It was delivered with such a deadpan tone that Starbuck actually looked worried he might try such a move. Tigh decided to let her stew on it for a bit and turned to address the pair standing to the side. "You two are clear about the terms of this little exchange?"

"Yes, Sir," Athena nodded. Iolus Carroq, the civilian engineer from Little Delphi, likewise nodded but otherwise kept his peace.

Truth be told, he shared Starbuck's concern over the Admiral's proposal of 'trading' personnel until their superiors back home made some kind of decision. The idea itself had been a sound one, but Rice electing himself and the two Marines to remain aboard _Nemesis_ was the last thing he'd expected. Taylor and Starbuck had been too shocked to immediately register how their superior also put no conditions on who would take his place. His own shock was more muted. The relief that they were keeping the nuke aboard quickly washed it out.

Tigh knew he should be disturbed by this kind of thinking, but was past caring about his private state of mind. Even the Nebula and everything that happened afterwards couldn't change that.

Lewis and Guarland hauled the container towards the bay's sole exit, with Helo and two Colonial Marines as escort. "Better start your pre-flight, Captain." The Commander nodded toward the Terran shuttle, voice as indifferent as ever. It was a performance worthy of every acting award the Colonies had ever devised; given how ab-so-frakking-lutely _desperate_ he was to get her off his ship.

If Starbuck took offense at the apparent dismissal, she gave no sign. Instead, she gave him a two-finger salute and turned to address the Admiral. A moment later, the officer nodded and Starbuck was on her way without another glance back. Tigh knew her well enough to read the signs. He actually felt a tremble of sympathy for what his people were likely going to be going through in a few microns.

Athena had unknowingly saved him from worrying himself too much over that earlier on, just after the exchange had been agreed to. She'd quietly let part a piece of information he immediately filed away as 'Top Secret – Eyes Only – Tell No One'. He mentally attached a small note to that thought, to the effect of 'Get Starbuck off this ship immediately!'

"Keep it to yourself," was all he'd murmured in return and Athena nodded calmly in acknowledgment. After that, he was ready to agree to anything if it meant putting distance between himself and Thrace.

Making sure his own people were securely inside the Terran's shuttle, Tigh turned to address Rice. "Admiral, we'd best retire so they can get on their way."

"Agreed, Commander," the Terran Admiral nodded, then turned to follow his men out of the landing bay. The man's confidence in his safety was astounding, at least to Tigh, who felt as if he were in some surrealist's painting. Nevertheless, he gave a small wave back to the shuttle, and then quit the bay himself. It was a struggle to put one foot before the other to do so, but he managed this task.

With Starbuck out of the picture now, he was back to flying blind. It wasn't a mental state he enjoyed in the slightest.

Fortunately, Saul Tigh was very practiced at hiding his constant discomfort these days, covering for it through action...and by being an even bigger and more acerbic bastard than usual. He threw off a grunt meant as, "Follow me" and stomped blindly down the corridor; he didn't bother to look if anyone was following him.

After a few minutes and several quick turns later, he brought his temporary entourage to what been provisionally assigned as guest quarters for personnel from elsewhere in the Fleet. Tigh felt a distinct stab of anger at himself for all this. He needed hard intel on what was waiting for his...the survivors of the Colonies here. He equally recognized he was unlikely to get such intel without at least trying to look and play human.

After two years of it, plus the fifty before, you'd think it would have come easier to him.

Then again, given what had happened within all those years, it was a small miracle he was even alive anymore.

* * *

_The Old Man was quick to order his resurrected pilot into containment under tight guard. The Marines who had been summoned were equally quick to lock arm and leg irons on him, keeping their weapons drawn on him at all times._

_The newly-resurrected man, not so young now, offered no word or gesture of protest. He was simply too shocked to find himself whole and healed to even think of escape then._

_The Old Man and the President both grappled with his survival as much as he himself did. The implications were every bit as nightmarish as how Gaius Baltar had somehow managed to vanish into the Fleet right after his trial. In the chaos that had followed since then. There simply hadn't been time or energy available for a dedicated search for the man, and even less inclination to do so._

_It was nearly a week before anyone came to see him, armed or otherwise. Meals had consisted of a single ration bar, slid into his cell by some unseen hand. As no-one had thought to remove the arm and leg ions, just unwrapping the bar one-handed and bringing it to his mouth required considerable ingenuity on his part. Anyone who might have been watching would have thought he'd trained in the Colonial Olympics as opposed to the backyard Pyramid courts. He himself was often mystified at his newfound dexterity._

_He similarly was surprised to intuitively know how long it had been since his sudden resurrection – six days, twenty hours, and forty-seven minutes precisely – when he received his first visitor._

_Yet another surprise: it was Tigh, alone and apparently unarmed._

_The first blow the older man landed was enough to leave him stunned and deaf. His forehead felt unusually damp as well. Looking up he could see Tigh's lips moving, something slender and metallic in his hand. Finding he could now lip-read, allowed him to make out the various invectives hurled his way by the Colonel. The thing in his hand – a long-discarded piece of iron pipe – came down on his head again barely a minute later. The wet-sounding "crack" that resounded with the impact robbed him completely of sight and already-treacherous balance. _

_Consciousness faded quickly, although he clearly felt the cell door being thrown open and vibration of many boots racing forward._

* * *

**Basestar**_**Nemesis**_

**Conference Room Alpha**

**Seven Hours, Twenty-six Minutes Since Contact**

"We have things to discuss, Admiral."

This was all Tigh had been able to say, utterly at a loss how to proceed now that the 'party favor' was safely stowed somewhere else and they were back in Conference Alpha. Helo had evidentially requested chairs be brought in and they were sitting facing each other now; only the Terran Marine that had accompanied Rice remained standing.

Tigh felt not a little aggrieved his recently awakened mental acuity chose the worst moment to desert him right then. Rice himself was the personification of stoicism; his Marine guard didn't look inclined to tread in 'officer country'. Fortunately, his ever-reliable XO was ready to step into the breach.

"Sir? Can you give us some idea what to expect next?" Helo asked, sounding calm as the Aerelon poles. Tigh knew it was an act but appreciated it all the same.

Admiral Rice simply looked between them for several long moments before deciding to how to answer. "I'm quite honestly not sure myself, gentlemen. I wasn't being modest when I said I...we...never seriously expected to ever meet your people."

"Surely Starbuck's arrival led you to develop at least some plans, right?" Helo pressed.

Rice nodded. "Colonel Thrace's landing was...well, unexpected to say the least. It forced us to jettison some assumptions we had been holding to that point and...Yes, you're correct, Major. There are plans in place." He took a breath and pressed on. "You'll understand I'm reluctant to go into detail under the circumstances."

Tigh snorted in amusement, wondering if the Terran was reading his mind somehow. "Fully understandable, sir. And I assure you, neither my crew nor I will press on that score." He fixed his remaining eye on Rice's own. "But, I cannot have my ship simply sit here like a rock without at least some small bit of guidance."

"You haven't asked what our home planet's name is, Commander," Rice reminded him.

"Because that isn't all that relevant right now, Admiral," Tigh fired back, now easily discerning the various levels of this conversation He was both grateful and worried he felt no internal compulsion to press that one issue, and wondered what Rice himself saw in him right then. "What I'm looking for is some idea of the...terrain...waiting for us here."

"And what kind of reception might be waiting there?"

"Exactly."

"Are your people going to request to settle on our world?"

"Would such a request at least be entertained by your world's leadership?"

"I already told you the United Nations has passed a resolution to that effect."

Tigh nodded, conceding the point. "That sounds very nice, but it doesn't tell me or my officers a damned thing about what our fleet can expect."

Rice seemed to find this all at least mildly amusing, given the small grin that broke his stony mask. "Fair enough." He sobered and waged another internal debate.

After several tense moments, he stated, "The message we received from our ship indicated one of our senior civilian leadership is already en route. If they haven't arrived by now, they will haveby the time Starbuck and her party are released from quarantine after landing."

"Quarantine again? Is that necessary?" asked Helo.

Rice spared him a glance and nodded. "Very necessary, Major. If only so we're fully confident my people aren't carrying something that will threaten yours."

Tigh quickly asked, "Will this senior civilian person have authority to at least allow our fleet to enter this system?"

"Yes, as well as open preliminary discussions about your people's long-term future here."

Tigh hoped the involuntary twitch in his eye went unnoticed. "Good. Would there be the possibility of perhaps our bartering for supplies as well?"

Rice gave him an intrigued look. "Barter with what, Commander? Colonel Thrace gave us the impression your fleet was barely outfitted and virtually destitute."

Tigh schooled his expression to one of polite derision. "Well, I get the sense your people are fairly new to space, Admiral. I mean, your planes look like toy models in comparison to ours. I'm also guessing Starbuck is your only flight instructor with actual experience in extra-atmospheric combat." He leaned forward ever so slightly. "Those are things you can be sure our people can help with."

Rice leaned in himself, dropping his own tone to a low growl. "How long has it been since you've encountered the Cylons, Commander?"

"Roughly a year. And believe me; we've watching our backs very, _very_ carefully."

"I'm...pretty sure some kind of arrangement can be made, Commander. Obviously I can't commit **to**or promise anything..."

"And again, I'm not asking you." Tigh turned his gaze to the tabletop between them and drummed his fingers there for a beat. Looking back up, he opened his mouth as if to ask something else, then thought better of it.

"Look, Admiral," he continued with a sigh. "I think if we try to talk about this any further we'll stray into territory we should avoid until our respective superiors are on-scene. Agreed?"

"Agreed, Commander." Rice's tone and expression went completely blank at this, giving no clue as to his thoughts or impressions.

Helo broke in suggesting, "Perhaps you'd care for a proper tour of the_Nemesis_ while we wait for word from your ship, sir?"

Rice gave a polite nod, eyes brightening for a moment. "That would be a...a good idea, Major. I confess our earlier walkthrough felt a bit too brief. Provided your CO has no objections?"

"None from me, Admiral. Major Agathon?"

"Sir?"

"Please escort the Admiral and his man wherever they wish. Within reason, of course."

"Of course, Commander. Little Delphi as well?"

"I'll contact Mr. Saron and let him know you're stopping by...something funny, Admiral?"

Rice hadn't been able to hide the chuckle that hit at hearing the name. "My apologies, Commander. That particular name..."

"What? Saron?"

"Yes, that one. It's shared by a figure from a famous work of literature on our world. It's just a surprise to hear it out here."

"I see." Tigh felt relieved at hearing this, though he couldn't immediately tell why. "Well, I hope you'll expand on that some time." He stood and tugged his dress blues back into place. "I trust you'll understand if I don't join you, Sir. I need to contact my own superiors and assure them we're still in one piece."

"May I ask what you plan to tell them, Commander?"

"Merely that we're still scouting the edges of this system and may have more to report shortly." Helo gave his CO an odd look, which was returned with a low glower. "I see _no_ reason to raise anyone's expectations or sound alarm bells unnecessarily right now. Do you?" The question to could have been directed towards either Helo or Rice, neither of whom had a ready response to it.

"See to your orders, Major," was all Tigh said as he turned and marched out of the room. As he left, he noted how Helo had the good grace to look momentarily embarrassed by his superior's manner, though Admiral Rice looked more puzzled than offended right then. He didn't let these reactions stop him however.

He had lies to compose and plans to lay, and damned if he'd be able to do either with his XO or guests watching him!

* * *

_When he next woke, a mere four hours and eighteen minutes later, it was no shock to find himself still in containment and under guard. What was shocking to find himself laid out, unrestrained, atop a cot with Doc Cottle poking his still-pounding skull with all the gentleness of a Pyramid rookie. There were also no __fewer t__han three Marines in full gear waiting just inside._

_The weak joke he answered with – one comparing the Doc's head to a Picon summer melon – resulted in the CMO nearly jumping a good arms length into the air and had all the Marines raising their weapons and unleashing a rapid hail of fire that tore through him. As he died a third time, he knew exactly which of his internal organs received how many punctures from how many explosive rounds._

_His last thought was __to__wonder how long it would take him to resurrect this time. __A__cold certainty closed in upon him as surely as the darkness snuffed out consciousness._

* * *

**Basestar**_**Nemesis**_

**Commander's Quarters**

**Eleven Hours, Thirty Minutes Since Contact**

Tigh knew it was four hours and four minutes later when Helo came to see him in his cabin. He'd waited in Command until it was confirmed Helo and their visitors were occupied below decks. Then he'd left Kelly watching the Boards and spent the majority of that time sitting there, composing one possible signal to _Galactica_after another.

His trashcan was now almost full of crumpled sheets of script. He'd nearly given up hope of being able to write anything that was sufficiently nondescript that it wouldn't panic the Old Man into jumping straight into the system. It hadn't escaped his notice how their sensors had lost track of Starbuck's shuttle the second she dove into the asteroid field, never mind failed to detect even the faintest trace of her home ship.

All of which added up tomany unsettling possibilities, especially in terms of the Terrans' capabilities. How in hell he could even begin to explain any of it in any coherent way to himself, never mind distill it down to a couple sentences that didn't sound utterly out of his mind?

It took all his willpower to keep from screaming for Helo to enter when he requested admittance. He hadn't felt this level of frustration since the first time he'd walking in on Ellen with her hand down another man's pants. It was a strangely settling thought given the circumstances; he could only hope he remained as useless now as he was back then.

Helo didn't stand on ceremony beyond a quick flick of a salute. He promptly dropped into the chair opposite the Commander's simple desk, taking note of how much _cleaner_ it looked than usual. Tigh continued to stare at the paper in his hand right then, a pencil poised uselessly near it.

The silence stretched on as it normally did between them. A familiar routine now between them both, a way to smooth over the fact neither of them were qualified for their current positions.

Tigh finally asked, "Learn anything?" He didn't dare look up just yet.

"Seems Starbuck hasn't lost her touch at telling tales." This prompted Tigh to fix his XO with a stare, only to find it reflected back at him.

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning if this is some trick of the Cylons...well, it's even more convoluted than what they pulled on me back on Caprica when they dropped Sharon on me. I mean if these people are for real, and Kara really has been living with them for years..."

"Telling tales?"

"The Admiral divided his time between putting back shots and making oblique references to stories about..." Helo paused with a small grimace.

"About?"

"You, mainly. As well a few slightly more...colorful...references to the Old Man and..."

Tigh held up a hand. "I can guess. Did you get anything useful from him?"

Helo shrugged a single shoulder. "He's damned protective of Kara."

"Really?" Tigh snorted and turned his attention back to the paper in his hand. Helo followed his eyes.

"Follow up message to _Galactica_?"

Tigh nodded. "Been trying to write the damned thing since I left you with our visitors. Where are they, by the way?"

"Back in their cabin. They've got one man outside their door at all times."

"Make sure to keep that corridor clear of traffic."

"Already done. Should I...?" Helo waved towards the papers on the CO's desk.

"No. I'm either the CO of this ship, or I'm not." Tigh echoed his old friend's words from years back. It had become something of a meditation for him -- a rallying point -- as it became clearer and clearer just how far out of his depth he was in this job.

He paused at that particular thought, feeling some previously unconscious weight shift within himself. It was a flash of conscious insight that was gone before he fully realized it. "Dismissed," the Commander barked needlessly. His XO knew the tone and his superior's mood well enough to know when to retreat, even if he had no idea what had set him off this time.

Rather than dwell on this latest outburst, Major Agathon stood and saluted. Tigh returned it with his pencil but did nothing else. He looked up only when he heard his cabin's door slide shut again.

The words came to him shortly thereafter. He only paused to check the wording against current code ciphers, ensuring he wasn't unintentionally declaring war against anyone.

Satisfied that he was not committing a disastrous breach, the Commander stood and quit the room, intent upon delivering it to Comms himself.

After that, he had another, slightly longer letter to write to his long-time commander. Something to explain the corpse he prayed they would find in his shower in the next few hours.

* * *

_When the younger man woke again, he found himself cradled in the arms of his lover. He did not immediately question how she could be there, with him in her arms, just then. She sported a few scratches and bruises. He didn't find this surprising._

_He didn't find anything surprising anymore._

_He cracked a smile rather than a joke this time. She returned it._

_They didn't speak. There wasn't need between them anymore._

_They remained like that until his strength returned. When he could finally stand, he did so. He enfolded her in his now-unmarked arms when he could lift them. _

_They remained that way for a full day. They came to The Decision at the same time, in the same moment._

_They needed to know._

_She was the one to throw the first punch, breaking his nose and driving cartilage into his brain. _

_He actually laughed as he died yet again. It seemed it was all he was good at anymore._

* * *

**Twelve Hours since Contact**

Tigh woke on the floor of his shower stall, back aching and head completely clear. He could feel the heat of the weapon in his hand, the sticky spray of gore on his back…he could even feel Ellen's phantom fingers brushing the bare, weathered skin atop his skull.

Her fond chuckle filled his ears, as it sometimes did when he got crazy like this. _Honestly, Saul. Look at this mess._

A single desperate tear leaked out of his remaining eye. _Frak it_, he cursed silently, wondering how easy it would be to make it to an airlock and simply flush himself out into the void.

* * *

_That won't solve anything, and you know it._

"Shut up!" he roared, leaping to his feet and bringing his weapon to bear on…nothing. "Frak Frak Frak Frak Frak!" Tigh ground out between clenched teeth. The room's comm chimed at that moment, prompting him to march over and pick up the handset with thoughts of bloody murder. "What?"

He went silent and still at the message. "I'll be there in five. Have Admiral Rice there as well." It took only two minutes for him to re-engage the safety on his sidearm, toss it onto his unmade bed, and throw on his dress blues. After that, he was out the door and jogging to CIC with all the vigor of a human a quarter his age.

_He struck first the next time, using every dirty move he'd learned on the Pyramid Courts in all twelve of the colonies. To fortify himself, he kept his eyes closed and imagined his target to be every two-bit player and coach who had ever crossed him._

_Limbs were snapped in brutal ways and at shallow angles._

_Ribs and cartilage buckled and snapped._

_Internal organs were hammered, some of them rupturing._

_Finally, her back was rearranged as he threw her limp form against the cell's only solid wall. Her small squeak of pain, the first she had __**uttered**__ since the start, caused his eyes to snap open and all his carefully constructed fantasies come crashing down._

_He spent the next two hours huddled in the furthest corner he could press into, alternatively indulging in tears and dry retching. It d__**id**__nothing to drown out the sharp sounds of bones resetting themselves as if by magic. He could only wonder then if she had heard similar things when it had been him healing on the floor._

_He watched as she slowly opened her clear, dark eyes. The despair that had been eating at his heart was reflected there perfectly._

* * *

**Basestar**_**Nemesis**_

**CIC**

**Twelve Hours, Twenty Minutes Contact **

It seemed strange to see Admiral Rice without either of his men shadowing him. Yet he marched into the CIC calmly, a Junior Petty Officer **as his** only escort. If he was even slightly puzzled by the Commander's unexpected summons to the Bridge, he hid it well.

"Commander?" was his only question.

Tigh pointed to the handset nearest him, precisely like the one he himself was holding. "Admiral, we're receiving a transmission relayed from one of the fighters you have watching us. It's directed to you specifically."

"May I?"

"Please." Rice picked up the handset, watching Tigh carefully as he spoke into it.

"This is Admiral Rice," he said, making sure to keep to Colonial.

The slightly distorted voice on the other end replied in kind. _"This is Secretary Richards, Admiral. I challenge: Vicksburg along the Mississippi."_

"I respond: Rome along the Tiber."

"_Okay, Admiral. Who else is listening?"_

Tigh immediately said, "This is Commander Saul Tigh, commanding officer of the Colonial Basestar _Nemesis._"

"_A pleasure and an honor, Commander."_

"Likewise," Tigh drawled in a way that communicated the exact opposite. "I presume you're part of the diplomatic party we're supposed to expect?"

"_I am. __However, I should clarify. My __position is roughly analogous to that of the Speaker of the Quorum and the Vice-President of the Colonies combined. Commander, are you empowered to enter into any manner of negotiations concerning the final disposition of your people?"_

"No, Mr. Secretary. I am not. My authority extends no further than this ship and crew." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I really shouldn't even be speaking to you right now, Sir. Just so you understand."

"_That's what I though__**t**__, Commander."_ There was a pause on the line. _"Perhaps it's probably just as well you're listening in, Sir. This message is as much for your ears as Admiral Rice's."_

"I see, Mr. Secretary." Tigh's acceptance was not reflected in the look he gave Rice. "Unless you object, I'd like to include my Executive Officer in this discussion."

"_The more the merrier, Commander. That would be, uh, Major Agathon correct?"_

"It is." Tigh nodded for his XO to step forward and pick up his own handset.

"Mr. Secretary, this is Major Karl Agathon speaking. Are you aboard ship with my wife Sharon?"

"_No, Major. I'm still en route. Speaking with your people is at the top of my 'to do' list upon arrival in roughly...six hours time." _ Both Colonials noted how Rice glanced at his watchwith a look of mild surprise.

"You have a message, Sir," Tigh reminded them all. "May we hear it?"

"_Yes, yes. I apologize. Admiral Rice, the Secretary General has directed the provisions of Case Zulu Delta be activated. I figured you already took that step, but you know how Irene is about stuff like this."_

Rice grimaced, but not in outright distaste. "Indeed we do, Mr. Secretary. You can inform the SecGen I've already taken the appropriate steps on my own authority."

"_Very well. You are authorized to explain this to your hosts in as much detail as you see fit. Also make them aware of Resolution 531."_

Rice gritted his teeth and stated, "I, uh, did so when I terminated Stage Two Quarantine."

"_On your own authority?"_ was asked after a short but significant pause.

"Yes, Sir. The responsibility is entirely mine."

"_Jumping the gun again, are we? Never mind that now. Be aware the SecDef Alpha is presently...incapacitated. Per Zulu Delta and Chain-of-Command, I have assumed primary civilian authority here. Authentication code is Paris Versailles Berlin Munich."_

"Understood, Mr. Secretary. The SecGen and remainder of the C-o-C are all secure?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Any special instructions you can pass on?"

"_Not at this time. I will be debriefing Starbuck myself upon arrival."_ There was another pause as the Terran Admiral waged a brief struggle to keep composure. _**"And you can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face right now, Ted,"**_the Secretary continued in normal English. _**"Both Irene and Robert are positively crowing for your ass right now, mein freund."**_

If anything, Rice had to fight harder to remain still and serious. "Understood, Mr. Secretary," he stated in a commendably dull tone.

This was answered with a hefty sigh over the wireless. _**"Why do I even bother?" **_ Another audible, if more muted sigh followed as the Secretary returned to speaking in Colonial. _"Commander, I apologize for that. I give you my solemn word nothing I've just said constitutes any concern to your people."_

"I'll have to take your word for that, Mr. Secretary." Tigh's tone was flat enough that it could be taken in either the affirmative or negative. Rice, who had sobered by then, looked the Commander over and was clearly unsure how to take his response himself.

"_Thank you, Commander," _Secretary Richards continued on, seemingly unaware of the ambiguity of the response. Rice knew better, but wasn't about to let that slip. _"As I said, I will be arriving in the area within the next six of our hours. You should expect further communication from us in short order, pending my discussions with your people and Colonel Thrace. Until then, I'd ask the _Nemesis_ remain at its current position."_

"I've no objection, Sir. Will you're planes still be on guard?"

"_They will, and I will be directing our ships reinforce their patrols upon arrival. I would therefore advise you to keep your own birds in the barn, Commander, just to cut down the chance of something accidental happening. At least until a final decision is made."_

Helo frowned a bit, while Tigh didn't so much as blink at this. "Is that a threat, Mr. Secretary?"

"_Just a piece of common sense advice, Sir. Nothing more."_

"My thanks then. You'll understand when I say we'll be remaining at Condition One for the interim as well, yes?"

"_Completely understandable, Commander. I must say, I__am looking forward to meeting with you and your people. Richards clear." _ With that, the line went dead. Rice lowered his handset to its cradle and leaned heavily against the planning table; he didn't look so much tired as simply worn down right then.

Tigh and Helo also set down their own handsets. Helo cleared his throat to ask "Admiral? What does 'Zulu Delta' refer to?"

"Eh?" Rice looked up, then quickly straightened and stood fully. "Apologies for the confusion, gentlemen. 'Zulu Delta' is a state of readiness not unlike your Condition Two."

"Vipers standing ready on deck, but not loaded in the tubes?" Helo asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Rice nodded.

Tigh shook his head. "So how does that relate to you?" Rice gave him a deadpan stare, which lead Tigh to drawl "Ah, right. The bomb." One would think the Commander had actually forgotten about it, given his uninterested tone and relaxed stance right then.

Tigh let this stretch several more moments before asking, "Would you care to elaborate on the...new measures you've undertaken in light of these new orders? Like your Secretary, I'd like to keep possible accidents to an absolute minimum where possible."

"Especially in relation to a 20 megaton yield device sitting just one deck down from here," the Admiral's agreeable-sounding tone answered.

"Precisely."

"Well you can rest assured there, Commander. You see Zulu Delta directs the trigger for the bomb be linked to a dead-man switch keyed to my personal heart rate. If I were, say, get suddenly surprised or get supremely tense…"

"I get it, Admiral," Tigh affirmed grimly, then looked up sharply when his XO asked the next obvious question.

"What if we were to attempt to…move…the device without your approval, Sir?" Tigh looked almost thunderstruck at his officer's boldness, while Rice merely nodded.

"If you were to attempt to do so, my men would manually detonate the device." He gave them both a slow, measured look. "I don't want it to come to that, though. Do either of you?"

"No, Admiral. We do _not,_" the Colonial Commander answered for everyone present. The atmosphere between them all became still and tense. Tigh took a breath and sought to dissipate it a bit. "What can we expect to happen between now and whenever Secretary Richards contacts us next?"

"Nothing," Rice answered bluntly. "Secretary Richards won't be arriving on scene for at least the next six hours. Once he's aboard our ship, he'll have to interview Major Taylor, Colonel Thrace, and your own people. After that, it'll be consultations with the Secretary General – our equivalent to your President – and the rest of the Secretariat before even an initial decision can be reached concerning you.

"Quite honestly, if we hear back from him any time within the next twelve hours it'll be nothing short of a miracle." Rice grimaced and shrugged. "Damned if I know how we'll fill the time until then, but that's how it is."

"That's why the Lords gave us Triad, Admiral." Tigh's remark was delivered so casually, so off-handedly, it was several breaths before anyone caught it. Rice blinked at him several times, as did Helo.

The Colonial XO echoed the bubble of laughter that half-erupted from the Terran Admiral. It was barely a second later when the Comms officer across the room was giggling as well. The two Specialists who were on duty couldn't help but join in quickly thereafter, by which time both Admiral Rice was literally fighting to keep from doubling over. Helo had fought a similar battle, and had temporarily lost.

Only Tigh himself kept any real composure, frowning so severely and so deeply, he was clearly just a heartbeat away from joining the rest of them in outright laughter.

* * *

_It was a fully day before he could find his voice. They had curled into each other's tight embrace the moment she'd been strong enough to move, remaining there, still as marble hewn from the quar__**r**__ies of Aerleon and shaped by the artisans of Leones. _

_They hadn't spoken in all that time, save through tears and hushed sounds of cold comfort. They could feel each other's breath on their necks and feel the other's heart beat against their chests, both coming in such perfect tandem. _

_The irony was not lost on either how such things merely reinforced the stone-certainty of their true origins._

_Both took that time and the silence between them to process what they had learned of themselves. They took it as given that those watching them, presumably watching and studying them, were doing likewise. They both pondered why it was so very important their adopted people learn how to terminate them; some pre-programmed bit of subterfuge perhaps. Or had they exceeded their 'programming' now and gone native in the most literal sense?_

_They agreed after that day, silently and without questioning their respective certainty, that brute violence would no longer be attempted. Neither had the stomach to harm the other any longer, never mind how utterly pointless it had proved. _

_That left the question of what to try next. He had the notion that severing their spines might prove terminal enough, even going so far explore her contours there with his fingers. She clearly had similar thoughts, but had decided against that route just then, communicating this through a simple shake of her head._

_Instead, she maneuvered his hands to her slender neck. The directive was clear as if she had shouted to the heavens on a silent night on New Caprica._

_He accepted it calmly, but closed his eyes to ensure he did not falter at some inopportune moment._

_A single, mighty twist there and she went limp in his arms once again. Her final breath rattled in his ear as his arms tightened around her. He heard her heartbeat still, his own breath stilling in anticipation._

_A minute passed. Then another._

_Then ten. Twenty. Forty. Sixty._

_Her heartbeat remained silent, her physical form limp as rags. He dared not hope they had succeeded._

_Another sixty minutes passed and she remained still._

"_Lords of Kobol," he began to breath, stopping when he realized how raw his throat was from disuse. No, he decided. He would wait until he could offer them a proper prayer before speaking. _

_The only question before him then was how he might ensure he followed his lover. His mind worked quickly over the available options; his own hands would be a last resort, while it was unlikely he could hope to pry one of the cell's bars free. He decided on the metal cot that was the only furniture there. It was both large and solid enough to do the job. _

_He all but dropped her now-useless body to the floor and laid himself prone, quickly wrestling the metal frame so he held it above him as if it were an ordinary set of weights. He found it strangely gratifying his strength had faded somewhat, his arms now shaking from the strain of holding cot aloft._

"_Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer," he whispered, ignoring the commotion beyond the walls. "Accept my sacrifice, and help me guard your sons and daughters..."_

_Whether it was distraction at hearing the bulkhead door being swung open or his strength simply faltering right at that moment, the heavy frame slipped away from him and smashed down upon his exposed throat._

_Darkness was instantaneous, and total. There was no sense of slipping away from his body or self; he was simply..._

_...somewhere else..._

_...opening fresh eyes...gasping fresh air with fresh lungs..._

_...meeting the implacable, eternally sliding red eye of a Guardian Centurion full on, and without fear._

* * *

**Basestar**_**Nemesis**_

**CIC**

**Twenty-five Hours, One Minute Since Contact**

"Incoming transmission, Commander," Specialist Tomlin reported.

"Pipe it through," Tigh nodded as he picked up his handset. Secretary Richard's voice filtered over the speakers, sounding far clearer than he had thirteen hours ago.

"_Ahoy,_Nemesis_."_

"Mr. Secretary," Tigh sighed, sounding world-weary.

"_Good afternoon, Commander. Is Admiral Rice there?"_

"I'm here, Mr. Secretary," Rice affirmed. Helo and Kelly likewise were present and listening through their own handsets.

"_Excellent. I've completed my interviews and consulted with both SecDef Beta and the Secretary General. Resolution 531 is considered in force as of…1239 hours GMT. Admiral?"_

Rice unconsciously braced himself. "Sir?"

"_Case MOSES." _Rice remained tense for another moment, clearly expecting more.

"Is that…all, Sir?"

"_That's it. Colonel Thrace and I will brief the exchange party and get a sense of provisions. You and your men are to maintain Zulu Delta until instructed otherwise."_

"What parameters shall I brief the Commander and his staff?"

"_Your discretion, Admiral."_ The Secretary's voice faded for a moment then returned in English_**"Cornwell is still bouncing off the walls about you being there, Ted. Just figured you should know."**_

"Understood, Mr. Secretary," the Admiral stated woodenly, then turned to the Colonials. "Commander, I believe now would be a good moment."

Tigh nodded and address his handset. "Mr. Secretary, I formally request, um, safe harbor for my people."

"_Do you and your people hope to settle here, Commander?"_

"That would be up to my superiors and our people as a whole to decide."

"_I see. Just how many people are we talking about?"_

Tigh quickly met Helo's eyes and said, "Roughly 40,000 souls aboard 31 vessels, Sir."

There was a short, pregnant pause, one just long enough to nearly convince Tigh the request was about to be refused.

"_You may inform your people they will find safe harbor here. Please direct them to jump into this region so we can ensure their security. Is that acceptable?"_

"For the moment, Mr. Secretary."

"_Commander? A small favor if you will?"_

"Sir?"

"_Please don't mention the presence of Colonel Thrace here."_ There were vague sounds of a scuffle on the other end, which everyone present politely ignored. _"I suspect things will be…difficult enough without throwing her into the mix too quickly."_

Further sounds of disorder were again ignored as Tigh said, "My thinking exactly, Mr. Secretary. With your permission, I'll send the message now. It will likely be a few more local hours before they make their final jump."

"_Understood. I'll leave the matter in your hands, then. Admiral Rice?"_

"Sir?"

"_See to your orders. Richards clear." _The connection was cut and Rice found himself the target of far too many pairs of eyes.

Helo spoke first. "'Case Moses', Sir?"

"Rules of engagement. Or in this case, non-military engagement." Rice fixed eyes on his immediate counterpart. "Case Moses gets its name from a bit of religious mythology from our world, referring to chosen leader who brought his people out of slavery and to their ancestral homeland." He smirked ever so slightly. "You can imagine the stir Thrace caused when we managed to piece together her story. I'm presuming President Roslin is still alive?"

"She is," Helo confirmed. "But her cancer has progressed…"

"We might be able to help that as well..."

Tigh had tuned them out by then, the Admiral's off-hand comment suddenly resonating deep within him. The story from myth, that one name, bounced about in his mind without hindrance and beyond control. The echo of it drowned everything else out. He knew immediately why, and felt as if he should both praise and curse the Lords at the great joke played upon him by putting him here, into this moment in time.

Particularly given his middle name, at least on what was left of his military paperwork, was "Moses".

Tigh breathed and asked "Did this leader…did he actually see the end of that journey?"

Rice didn't appear surprised at the question. He shook his head saying, "No. He only lived long enough to see his people's homeland from the top of a mountain called Pisgah."

Again, if anyone felt the Commander's question or his carefully schooled non-expression strange, there was no sign. Helo and the Admiral continued to talk, discussing logistics and needs. Tigh's own thoughts were turning in an entirely different direction, a wholly different plan forming in his mind.

"Major Agathon, you have the Bridge. Coordinate with Admiral Rice to bring in our Fleet. I'll be in my cabin if you need me." He left the Bridge without a further word or another glance back.

He had a letter to finish writing, andthen needed to scrounge up a good length of wire cord. The sharper, the better.

After all, who was he to ignore the demands of history?

* * *

_It was four months and four days later when a Raptor first caught sight of the derelict basestar that the Colonials would make as their own. _

_They renamed it _Nemesis_, and wondered at this change in fortune._

* * *

**Colonial Basestar **_**Nemesis**_

**CIC**

**Thirty Hours, Four Minutes Since Contact**

The DRADIS boards were filled signals, the thirty Terran Vipers orbiting their position, forming a wide perimeter in space. Admiral Rice wondered which of them was Starbuck's. It helped distract himself from other concerns right then.

Major Agathon likewise kept his eyes fixed to the boards, expression far grimmer and no less distracted.

"FTL signatures," Captain Kelly reported as a host of new contacts appeared. Some 31 in total as expected.

"Captain Kelly, get me _Galactica_ Actual on the wireless," Agathon ordered, picking up his handset. "Admiral Rice, will your ship be monitoring our wireless transmissions?"

"Very likely."

"Comforting," Agathon muttered as a new voice came over the speakers.

"Nemesis_ Actual, come in!"_

"This is Major Agathon, sir. _Nemesis_ Actual is...indisposed."

"_Very well. We are reading over thirty small spacecraft in orbit around us, Nemesis. Please explain." _

"These aircraft are a defense force native to this star system, and are on a wide patrol to ensure no threat emerges at our arrival," Helo's replied calmly. "I'll allow their representative to explain further." He nodded to Rice.

"This Admiral Theodore Rice of the Terran Defense Fleet. May I know who I am addressing?"

"_This is Admiral William Adama of the Battlestar _Galactica_."_

"_My greetings, Admiral Adama." _

There was a short pause, then "_Admiral Rice. I trust Commander Tigh has explained our…situation…sufficiently?" _

"My superiors and I are aware you are refugee fleet seeking safe haven, Sir. I should inform you a senior civilian representative is in the area. I should allow him to speak further on this." Rice paused, switching to English. **"Anyone listening on this Band, clear grid-reference Bravo-nine-eleven for jump insertion."** He glanced towards the DRADIS, noting the pair of Vipers pulling away from the noted reference point, which was suddenly filled with a new signature.

"New FTL signature, Sir..." Kelly began speaking, only to be overridden by a voice that boomed over the comms.

"_This is Secretary of State Benjamin Richards. I am addressing the people of the Twelve Colon__**i**__es of Kobol from aboard the Battlestar _Olympus,_which has just jumped into your vicinity. On behalf of the Secretariat of the United Nations, which I serve, and the many peoples it represents, I offer you the heartfelt greetings on behalf of our home planet...known to you as well as us ... as Earth._

"_Welcome home."_

The air in the CIC went utterly, oppressively still.

* * *

**Colonial Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

Within a tightly sealed containment cell, the woman once known as Sharon Valerii rocked gently back and forth. Were there any listening, they might have heard her muttering for the first time over a year.

"The Herald is here...the Herald is here...the Herald is here..."

Eyes wide and seeing nothing, she stumbled to her unsteady feet and leaned hard against the bars before her.

"She here!" she began screaming, the walls deaf and silent corridors beyond indifferent.

"The Herald of the Apocalypse is here! She's here!

"She's HERE!"

* * *

**End of Book II**

**To Be Continued in Book III: **_**Exodus Ends**_

* * *

**Why I did what I did: **Well I couldn't very well let that little bombshell from "Razor" go unmentioned, could I? In any case, there's been a regular demand that I quit messing around and get on with the fireworks. Rest assured, they will be coming. Perhaps even a few surprises as well. 

For those who may be wondering, "Pisgah" is actually a Hebrew word for _High Place_, usually referring to the top of a mountain or similar geographical elevation. Translations of the Old Testament have perhaps erroneously interchanged Pisgah with Mount Nebo as the place where the prophet _Mosheh_ (Hellenized _Moses_) finally died after seeing the Promised Land. Personally, I just think Pisgah sounds better.

Until next time...


End file.
